


Lemonade

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Smut, Hurt, Miscarriage, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Romance, Self-Discovery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 93,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Michonne have been navigating a relationship for five years now, all while trying to put the world back together. After a turn of events that shakes their family to its core, their marriage experiences a long, dark night of the soul, and they have to figure out how to put themselves back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue  
** **The Past And The Future Merge To Meet Us Here**

Michonne stood at the front of the large Westin ballroom, in all its fancy gold-plated pillars and elaborate chandeliers, waiting patiently for all eyes to land on her. She wasn't one to be overcome by nerves often - she was one of the two leaders of the place, after all - but as she stood there, waiting to make her toast, she felt unusually jittery. It probably didn't help that she hadn't had any alcohol all night. But for the sake of remembering what she wanted to say, it was also probably for the best. "Okay," she said to herself, inhaling sharply before releasing it.

She smoothed the front of her royal blue dress, glancing at her husband as she did, loving the way he was beaming up at her as she retrieved her wine glass from their table. She discreetly and quickly ran her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck before clearing her throat. The room finally went silent, waiting for her to speak.

"First and foremost, I wanna say thank you to you all for coming. Because despite the fact that life has gotten significantly easier for us all in the past few years, I know it's still no easy feat to leave the comfort and security of your homes for a party." There was a small response of laughter, which allowed some of her nervousness to dissipate. "But, as I said when I asked most of you to come, I think it's important for us to have moments. Things we'll be able to look back on in another seven years and smile about. I want for us to recognize milestones, big and small. Just a couple of nights ago, we had a tea party for Judith because she tied her shoes on her own," Michonne grinned in recollection as people laughed again. "And trust me, I know how ridiculous that sounds. Even in the moment, I asked myself if I really wanted to do this. It was right before bed, Rick and I were exhausted, but… it was one of those things so small that it becomes huge in hindsight." She shook her head, trying not to think about how she never got to experience that with Andre. "And I realized that I did. I wanted us to remember it. Because for so long, we didn't have a lot of reasons to be happy. We were losing so many people, I know a lot of us weren't sure we would still be here in five years' time. And so, I've found that it's important to take time to celebrate the triumphs." Her eyes scanned the small group of people that sat at the table along with herself and Rick. Their family. The people she'd left Georgia with. The fact that a lot of them were still alive was one of those triumphs. And as she caught her stepson's eye, looking more like his dad with every passing day, she smiled. How far they'd all come, in every sense of the word. "I met these people a little over six years ago now," she went on, gesturing to Maggie and Glenn, Sasha and Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Carol, Morgan. "I showed up at a prison looking for somewhere to rest my head, and I got an entire family. Sisters, brothers, children… and a husband," she grinned down at Rick again. "This man was instrumental in teaching me how to live again, and more importantly, how to love again. He's wanted that for all of us from the very beginning, and he refused to rest until he found it. He's fought for it, and more than once, nearly died for it, and he's the reason why a lot of us are here. Of course, a lot of us are also the reason why he's here, but those are stories for another night," she chuckled along with everyone else. "Tonight, we celebrate the triumph that is Rick Grimes. My love, my light, I thank you. Here's to you."

"Here, here," Abraham proclaimed, holding up his beer to his friends.

As applause erupted and glassware clinks pervaded the room, Rick stood with a giant smile on his blushing face, greeting his wife with a thank you kiss. He covered her lips with his, and then pulled back to look at her, brushing a couple of her long locs from her face. "You're incredible, you know."

"So are you," she quipped in a whisper, leaving him with another peck. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you." He wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and pulled her in closer to kiss her neck, not caring that they were in front of more than two hundred people. "I can't wait to get you home," he quietly sent back.

"And I'm not wearing any panties," she revealed as they reclaimed their seats, "so have fun thinking about that for another couple of hours."

Rick was biting hard at his bottom lip, simultaneously indulging in the image while trying not think about it, but he didn't have time to respond as they were approached by two of their friends from the Hilltop colony - Jesus and Magna.

"That was one hell of a toast, Michonne," Jesus greeted them, nodding to acknowledge her and then the guest of honor.

"So eloquent," Magna agreed, smiling at Rick. "You should let her do the talking all the time."

"No one would ever listen to me again if I did," Rick chuckled, still grinning at the side of his wife's face. "They'd realize I was a fraud."

"He's being modest," Michonne smiled, ignoring the compliments in a show of modesty herself. "He's the most motivating person I've ever met."

"Well, seeing what he's built, I can see where that would be true," Magna nodded, brushing her long hair from her shoulder. "I like to bust his balls, just because he's so damn serious all the time, but you definitely caught yourself a good one, Michonne."

Michonne couldn't help but feel a bit slighted by her comment, seeing how they'd most certainly built everything they had _together_. But Rick was the birthday boy, and even without that caveat, he did deserve all the praise that came his way. So she smiled, her fingers running through the back of Rick's hair once more as she agreed, "That, I did."

"I'm the lucky one," Rick cut in, feeling his face begin to flush. "Let the record show that none of this happens without Michonne."

"Stop it," she shook her head in another show of humility. "I know you two didn't come over here for this."

"Actually," Magna began to confess, giving Michonne's arm a tap, "I was hoping I could steal this one away from you for just a minute. A bunch of Hilltoppers have wanted to meet him for months now, and I promised I could introduce them."

Michonne chuckled at the fact that her husband apparently had fans. "Of course," she grinned, gazing at him proudly. "Just don't be too long." She watched as he disappeared with their friend, who was more of an acquaintance to her, admiring how handsome Rick looked in his navy blue suit. Such a far cry from the faded jeans and cowboy boots he still wore regularly. She was so glad their closets had expanded through the years. And yet, he still looked very much like the Rick Grimes she'd met six years ago, with more curly hair than he would ever need, and the salt and pepper scruff that somehow made him look a little dirty but a little distinguished at the same time. She really loved that face of his.

"You look like a teenaged girl with a crush," Jesus commented, noting the longing look on her face. "I can't even find someone to look at me like that for five minutes, much less five years."

"Shut up," she chuckled, gesturing for him to come and take Rick's empty chair. As she waited, she had a perfect view of Carl, laughing with his girlfriend and the rest of the people at his end of the table. She was so proud of him; so happy for his happiness. It was what she'd been working toward since the moment they became friends - his safety, his livelihood, and his happiness - and it felt as though she and Rick had succeeded.

"Are you all right?" Jesus wondered, seeing her seemingly lost in thought again.

"I am extremely all right," Michonne promised, bringing her wine glass to her lips before thinking better of it. "I'm just happy."

"You look it," he nodded, glancing around the room along with her. "I gotta say though, I thought for sure that with Carl moving out to Hilltop, you'd be out there a lot more," he submitted from behind his glass of water. "Somehow, I think we might see you even less now."

She shrugged, unsure of what to say, considering she wasn't particularly fond of the thought of Carl being so far away. "He moved out there for a reason, so I've been trying extremely hard not to be the helicopter mom."

Jesus nodded again, chuckling. "I guess Rick didn't get the memo, huh?"

She had to laugh, because he wasn't wrong. When Carl first moved, Rick practically spent more time at Hilltop than he did at Alexandria. "Carl is the only thing he has left from before," she offered in his defense. "It's not easy watching your kid leave in any circumstance, but in this case, I completely understand why he's slow to cut the cord."

"Should be fun when Judith is old enough to leave, huh?"

"Nope, don't even bring that up," Michonne warned him, only half-joking. "I'm not letting her go anywhere until she's thirty. Maybe not even then."

"Which reminds me," he was still chuckling as he looked around the room, "where is she tonight?"

"Oh, I'm serious. She's not allowed out of the house anymore." The two of them laughed heartily at her kidding, just as Maggie came to join them with a plate full of food.

"What are you two over here cacklin' about?" she greeted them.

"I was asking where Judith is," Jesus said. "But apparently, Michonne has her locked up somewhere like Cinderella."

Michonne sobered up when she realized how much she actually missed her little jellybean. "No, she's at home with Olivia, probably driving her insane."

"Was she upset she couldn't come to the party?" Maggie guessed.

"She was beside herself," Michonne confirmed, playfully rolling her eyes as she stole an hors d'oeuvre from her friend's plate. "She came up with twenty different scenarios. 'What if I can just come in to sing happy birthday and help Daddy blow out the candles?'" she imitated her. "Those giant brown eyes, just begging. I couldn't take it."

"Hershel was the same," she giggled. "He just couldn't believe there was a party for grown-ups only. Then Glenn told him he would get to hang out with Judith for a few hours and he forgot all about it."

"We made brownies this morning for his grand arrival," Michonne returned with a nod. "She was very excited, too."

"Can I just say how much I enjoy how multifaceted you two are?" Jesus interjected into the conversation with an amused smile. "Stone-cold killers by day, carpool moms by night."

"I like to think I'm a carpool mom all the time," Maggie joked. She could barely get out her sentence before she was smacking Michonne's hand from her plate as she went in for more of her food. "Get your own!"

"All of it is mine," she quipped, ignoring her in the very sisterly way that she often did as she stuffed a bite of bruschetta into her mouth. "And I actually haven't killed anyone lately," she added, returning to Jesus' assertion. "I think it's been nearly a year now."

"Shit, really?" he marveled.

"Alexandria has lived up to its name as a safe zone," she shrugged. "It's been about ten months without any incidents at all."

"Maybe we oughta move back," Maggie submitted, glancing down the table to where Glenn was seated with their Hilltop crew. "We had an attack last month, and another probably three or four months before that."

Michonne had to work hard not to show the tension on her face as she thought about Carl leaving their safe space for Hilltop. But she knew most of the other communities had similar problems, mostly due to their large numbers, and she couldn't keep him caged up at Alexandria forever. Not when he wanted to leave. "I think a change of subject is in order," she declared, taking small sips from her water as her eyes landed on Rick once more. She found it so amusing, watching him work the room. Rick was never exactly known as the likable one in their relationship, but in the past few years, with things calming down on the war front, he had certainly become more comfortable in the role of a charismatic leader. Getting to know people, them wanting to know him. She just loved seeing that come to a crescendo as he stood amidst friends and fans at his 44th birthday party. That this was their life now.

And across the beautiful ballroom, Rick Grimes was, indeed, enjoying the attention. Magna had already introduced him to a string of newer residents, and they were moving on to a couple that had just arrived to Virginia, and were looking for a place to settle down. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight," Rick commented as Magna led him toward another table. "Meeting people isn't exactly at the top of the list of things I wanna do on my birthday."

"Yeah, well you never seem too keen on doing it when you're at Hilltop either," Magna smirked. "I figure you can't run away from me now."

"I don't run away from you," he chuckled.

"Well you certainly don't stick around."

"So you can give me more work to do? No, you're right about that."

"Rick, you're like the governor of Virginia," she chided him. "You should meet the people that live here."

He did his best not to balk at the idea of being called a 'governor,' but he couldn't let it go, for fear of the nickname sticking. "Please don't call me that."

She frowned back at him, quietly admiring his slow southern twang as she wondered what he could possibly have against the title. "All right. Would you prefer to be called Mr. President? Want me to get up on stage and sing you happy birthday?"

"I bet you'd like that," he joked, hoping he wasn't blushing as he shook his head. "But no, not that either."

"God, you're so humble, it's annoying."

He smirked in reply, because he knew that wasn't true either. "No one's ever accused me of that before."

"There you go again." Magna gently hit his arm as they approached the table she'd been searching for, a man and woman sitting, enjoying their dinner. "April, Rob. This is the guy you've heard probably way too much about, Rick Grimes." She presented him to the middle-aged couple as they stood to greet him. "He's essentially the king of our little contingent of settlements, so you should really try to impress him right now."

"Don't listen to her," Rick grinned, offering his hand to shake both of theirs. "It's nice to meet you both."

"This is quite impressive, though," April agreed as she surveyed the decorated room. "We came down from New York, and there's nothing up there that comes close to looking like this anymore."

"Although, to be fair, New York looked like shit before the world ended," Rob chuckled. "But this is really nice. Like, almost-too-good-to-be-true nice."

Rick wasted no time pointing back to the host table, where Michonne was laughing with Maggie, looking just as gorgeous and happy as a person could look. She was glowing, in fact. "This is all thanks to my wife back there," he nodded. "Michonne's been workin' on all this for years now, gettin' Virginia back to a livable state."

"And she also heads up the school system," Magna offered to the couple. "I know you guys had questions about that."

"Oh yes," April confirmed, relieved to hear the news. "We have four kids, ranging from eight to seventeen, so if we can get them back into classes, that would be great."

"I don't have any kids myself, but we've got plenty running around these days. Most of them are younger, but… they keep things lively."

"Rick, how old is yours?" Rob wondered, recalling his wife mentioning one in her toast.

Rick had somewhat checked out of the discussion, still fixated on Michonne and how stunning she looked. Her absolutely radiant skin, and its golden undertones matching the colors of her curled hair; her red lipstick highlighting the curves of her wonderfully luscious lips; and that blue dress, the color making her look like the royalty she was. He was a hundred feet away, and he wanted nothing more than to be next to her again. The only thing to bring him back to the conversation in front of him was hearing his name. He cleared his throat as his gaze fell back to Rob and April. "I'm sorry?"

"He was asking how old your kids are," Magna repeated for him, noticing he'd obviously disappeared. "You guys actually met his son, Carl, this morning," she answered for him. "He's twenty, right?"

"He is," he nodded. "And our daughter, Judith, is five, going _on_ twenty." The small group laughed in reply to his joke, and he took a sip of his wine, preparing to ask the couple if they had any kids, but was luckily interrupted by Aaron before he could embarrass himself.

"Hey," he cheerfully clapped Rick's back, "I really hate to interrupt, but we gotta get back home, and I wanted to make sure I got a picture of you and Michonne before I go."

"You're not gonna put them up on the website, are you?"

"Of course I am," he grinned. "You guys don't mind if I steal him for a moment, do you?"

"No, no," Magna was already waving them off. "Thank you for your time, Rick."

"It was nice meeting you all," Rick extended to April and Rob. He sent a nod back to Magna as he and Aaron headed toward the front of the room where the rest of their family was seated. "Why are you leavin' so early?"

"Well Tara and Manda are with the baby now, and we promised them we'd get home early so they could enjoy some of the party."

"You know we've got a whole list of babysitters on speed-dial," he laughed. "It would've been no problem to get one so you all could come."

"Yeah… I don't think any of us are quite ready for that yet," he chuckled awkwardly. "We're still trying to get used to the whole arrangement."

Rick nodded knowingly and understandingly. "Give it a few more months. Once he starts talkin', you'll be beggin' for a babysitter."

"I can't wait for that, honestly. Right now, it just always feels like I'm gonna miss something."

"Carl was more than a year old before Lori and I went out for anything social," he recalled, shaking his head at the thought. "So you're already doing better than me."

Aaron smiled appreciatively as he watched Rick round the table to return to his seat beside Michonne. They were such a gorgeous couple, he thought, looking like they belonged on the top of some colorful wedding cake. Her dress brought out the color of his eyes, their matching gold bands coordinating with the décor of the room. Pictures wouldn't really do them justice, but he knew Michonne would want them. She, like him, loved collecting moments.

"Hey, you," Michonne greeted Rick when he finally reappeared before her. She reached out to touch his hand, and their fingers intertwined for a brief moment as he made his way to the other side of her. He leaned down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek before taking his seat, and the flash of the camera seized both of their attention.

"That wasn't for you," he called out to Aaron with raised eyebrows.

"That one's for you guys," he promised, raising his camera once more. "Smile."

Rick wrapped his arm around his wife and the two of them leaned in to one another, Michonne's temple resting against Rick's cheek as they smiled big, genuine smiles, ready for their close-ups, just before Michonne pulled away unexpectedly. "Hold on," she declared, grabbing her silver clutch from the tabletop. "Sorry."

"Your lipstick is perfect," Rick teased as he watched her fumble with the clasp of her purse.

"Shut up," she chuckled. Within a couple of seconds, she found what she was looking for, and handed Rick the small piece of photo paper, knowing this was a moment she wanted captured on camera. "Happy birthday," she whispered for the second time that night.

Rick's breathing quickened as he took in the black and white image with Michonne's name typed at the top, and several numbers and letters of gibberish along the side. In the middle, a collection of blurry waves and curves that didn't look like anything, and yet, he knew exactly what it was. He gazed up at Michonne, already beaming at him as she watched him put the pieces together, and he looked back down at the picture of their baby. "Really?"

She nodded, unable to contain her smile as she looked at the sonogram for what had to be the hundredth time in two days. She knew this was something he'd been wanting for months now, and because he wanted it, she did, too. And finally, they had it. They had everything. "Really."

The camera flashed again as they kissed, and Michonne felt those jitters once more; that uneasiness she wasn't used to. Earlier, she'd chalked it up to being nervous about public speaking, but she was realizing this was something else. Trepidation. Because this was yet another triumph to be celebrated, and if she knew anything about this world, they were probably due for a loss soon.


	2. What Are You Doing, My Love?

_**6 months later.** _

"Rick?" Michonne called out as she stepped into her dark, seemingly empty home, slightly confused by the fact that her husband's car was sitting outside, but he didn't appear to be inside. She and Judith were getting in later than usual, and on those occasions, he ordinarily had dinner cooking, if not ready when they walked in.

"Daddy!" Judith shouted, following her mother to search for him in the living room. When there was no response, she looked up at Michonne with those ever-curious hazel eyes. "Where is he?"

"Maybe at a neighbor's," she shook her head in uncertainty, kneeling to the floor to help Judith out of her backpack and coat. "Go put your stuff away and I'll give him a call."

"Can I do it?'

Michonne smiled, unable to resist those big button eyes of hers. "Take your stuff upstairs first," she maintained, knowing Judith's things had a way of overtaking the house if they didn't keep it under control. She gave her little belly a pinch as she added, "And then we'll see what we can find for dinner."

"I'm here," Rick called down from the top of the staircase, startling both his girls in the process. He looked a bit of a disheveled mess from his 30-minute attempt at a nap, and he walked like one too, slowly shuffling down the steps. "Hey."

"Daddy," Judith called out to him, excited, as always, to see him. She ran to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, giggling happily when he swept her into his big arms, her little arms wrapping around his neck. "Where were you?"

"I was taking a nap," he half-lied, shifting her to one arm so that he could greet Michonne. "Sorry."

She shook her head, unbothered by any of it, and offered a quick kiss to say her hello. She gazed at his face as she tried to fix his messy hair, noticing his normally vivid blue eyes looked almost grey. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, realizing he was lying again. "Just a little extra tired today."

Michonne nodded, licking her lips as she noticed an odd taste she'd gotten from their kiss. She couldn't quite place it at first, unsure whether it was liquor or something else. And then it hit her as she passed Rick again, catching it in scent form. "Have you been eating oranges?" she casually wondered with a small laugh.

"Yeah, I might've had a couple at Hilltop today…" Another lie.

"Did you bring me any?" Judith inserted into the conversation. She was playing with the collar of Rick's shirt as the three of them wandered into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I didn't, sweetheart." He set her on the island counter, allowing him to reach into his pocket for what he did bring home for her. "Carl did want me to give you this, though." He pulled out a small gold chain with a key attached, and the letter 'J' engraved in the head. "He made it just for you."

Judith let out a light gasp, and her entire face lit up as she took the gift into her little hands. "Mommy, I have a necklace like you now."

"You do," Michonne grinned, enjoying how happy the gesture made her. And as she made a mental note to call Carl in the morning, she grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her pants to set it on its charger. "How do you feel about grilled cheese for dinner, Cutie?"

Judith looked up from her necklace and nodded happily. "And tomato soup?"

"Of course," she winked, moving past Rick and Judith to head into the living room, where their bar was set up. "I'm gonna have a drink," she informed Rick. "You want one?"

He only shook his head as he helped Judy into her new jewelry.

"Babe?" Michonne called back, having missed his silent reply.

"I'm good."

She immediately frowned at his answer, as it was unlike him to let her drink alone. Everything about the way he was acting was just… strange. "You sure?"

"I'll just have some of yours."

Michonne put it out of her mind, continuing with fixing herself a vodka cranberry while she tried to think of any news she needed to pass on to Rick. "Oh, while I'm making dinner, could you log into my email and print the pictures from the Halloween party?"

Rick quietly chuckled to himself, although it sounded more like a scoff as it came out. "Aaron finally sent 'em, huh?"

"Took him two weeks, but better late than never, I guess."

"I just knew he was gonna delete those pictures after Judith annihilated the entire competition." She had chosen to dress up as Michonne, and it was an incredibly adorable, badass sight to behold. But as a result, the costume contest wasn't even close. "I think they thought they'd win off the strength of having a one-year-old."

"I mean, Kevin's a cute kid," she allowed, returning to the kitchen with her drink in hand, "but you gotta step your game up if you're going against Judith Grimes."

Judith looked up at her dad upon hearing her name in discussion more than once. "What'd I do?"

"Nothin', sweetheart," he smirked, patting her leg as he helped her down from the counter. "Go take off your shoes and get started on cleaning up that room," he nodded toward the steps.

"But you said I could do it Saturday."

Rick chuckled, but he wasn't backing down from that pouty face of hers. "That's not what I said, that's what you said."

"But-"

"Judith," Michonne cut in. Her tone was pleasant, but contained enough firmness for Judith to know that she meant business.

Without any other words, the 6-year-old scampered off toward the foyer to do as told, and Michonne moved to the refrigerator to retrieve the contents for their dinner. "So how was your day," she asked Rick, realizing they'd been together for several minutes now and they'd yet to get around to their usual banter.

Rick shook his head, sliding her glass across the counter to take a sip of her drink. "Nothin' really worth mentioning." He winced as the vodka hit the back of his throat and another lie flew past his lips. "How 'bout you?"

"It was not bad at all," she nodded. "Carol and I finished up the plans for that shopping center, and I think we'll be ready to start in spring."

He nodded back, trying not to think about how they were supposed to have a baby by then. He or she would've been due on New Years' Day, in fact. "Sounds good," he eventually replied. "Come April, I'm supposed to help Fairfax get their farm back on track, but I can split my time."

"You're sweet," Michonne grinned, taking her drink back from him. "But we'll manage. We're gonna need food to put in these grocery stores, so that's more important." She continued with finding a pot and pan, just as she heard the sounds of Judith's little feet running up the stairs. "How's Carl?"

"He's good," Rick sighed, distractedly watching her buzz around the kitchen like a worker bee. "I told him you'll be glad to hear that he's gained a little weight."

And he was right, as Michonne instantly smiled at the news. "The only thing that would make me happier is if he's cut his hair."

"Well you know that's not happenin'. He and Enid are gonna look like twins soon."

"You mean even _more_ like twins?" she smirked. She turned back to the island where Rick stood, and began slicing cheese for their sandwiches, making sure to cut off small pieces for the two of them to snack on in the meantime. "How's she doing?"

"Good. They seem good," he nodded again, accepting a small square of cheddar from her. "They were in a debate about where they would spend Thanksgiving, and I let 'em know there's no way in hell you'd be okay with Carl not coming home."

The two of them laughed in unison as Michonne moved on to swiftly slicing up the bread. "Well Maggie asked us to come out there anyway, and I told her we would. So no debates necessary this year."

"Oh." Rick nervously scratched the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding her and focusing on her busy hands instead. "So… we'll be at Hilltop?"

She immediately noticed the strange tone of his voice and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that okay?"

He nodded, taking another piece of cheese from the cutting board. "I'm gonna go pull up the pictures."

Michonne watched worriedly as he headed off to the living room, and she couldn't help but wonder, again, what was going on with him. There was something obviously off, but it was so slight, so unidentifiable, it worried her even more. She and Rick were always so connected, always on the same wavelength, be it good or bad, it was disorienting not being able to figure out what was off kilter. And better yet, why. She knew when he was sick, when he was sad, when he was angry, when he was happy. She knew _him_. But now, the only thing she knew for certain was that she didn't like whatever it was.

* * *

It was just a little past 10:00 as Michonne returned to their bedroom from her shower, finding Rick sitting in bed reading, as he tended to do when he wasn't particularly sleepy. Over the years, he'd found that reading in bed had become like a dose of melatonin, always making him groggy rather quickly.

"One of those nights, huh?" Michonne commented, knowing exactly why he was reading, too.

"Yeah," he sighed, briefly glancing up at her. "And I gotta get up early tomorrow, so I need to get to sleep."

"Shouldn't have taken that nap." She hung her robe on its hook over their closet door and then grabbed her jar of shea butter on her way back to their bed. She quickly worked the ointment down her arms and legs, feeling uncomfortable with the quiet of their room for the first time in a long time. She'd always enjoyed the silence between them, but it felt stilted in that moment. Deliberate. "Do my back?" she requested, passing the jar back to him.

She didn't have to ask, though, as this was part of their nightly routine. Rick set his book aside, and Michonne inched backward, allowing him full access to her body. And like clockwork, he scooped a dollop of the butter onto his index finger, rubbing it into an oily consistency between his hands before lathering it onto her back. He closed his eyes at the touch of her impossibly soft skin, his hands working their way from her shoulder blades, all the way down to her hips. Normally, he would pinch one of her ass cheeks for good measure, but he bypassed that step, instead, leaving a short, sweet kiss on her shoulder as he finished.

Michonne smiled at the contact as she closed up the container and moved to place it back on the dresser. She turned back to him with a devilish grin, her perfect naked body shimmering in the dim room. "It's still early," she offered before he could pick up his book again. She walked to his side of the bed, making no hesitation of straddling him over the covers. "How 'bout I give you something to make you sleep?"

"Okay…" Rick agreed, watching her, somewhat amused as her fingers began to slowly roll their comforter down his waist. She was mildly surprised to find he was wearing his boxers to bed, given they generally slept naked, but it was another one of those things she decided to put out of her mind, her hand continuing its journey to his dick. He sat there nervously biting his lip as she made her way further, and he felt his stomach drop as his thoughts went wandering to the rest of his day. "Michonne," he exhaled shakily.

With one hand on his stomach, she could feel the tension in his entire body, and she still didn't understand it, but was doing her best to cure him of whatever it was. "Relax," she whispered, inching her body backward for the space she needed to complete her mission.

She persisted with pulling his underwear down his slim hips, and she lowered her head to meet the tip of his cock. They'd been doing this dance for five years now, and she still got excited by the thought of sucking him off. The only thing she enjoyed more was when they fucked in places they clearly shouldn't be fucking. But then, she just enjoyed sex in general, and had never been afraid to show it. Especially with Rick.

Michonne began to slowly massage his flaccid shaft while her tongue seductively circled the tip; her sultry stare watching him as he finally appeared to be giving in, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the headboard. She licked him with the prowess of a professional dick-sucker, her tongue working overtime to taste every inch of him, getting him warm and wet from top to bottom. Her fingers made their way down to his balls, gently teasing them as her mouth swallowed him whole, while he was still soft enough to fit. Moaning quietly, she twisted and turned her tongue in every direction, sucking him in ways that normally would've had him hanging off the bed, moaning right along with her. But instead, he seemed to be struggling to even get an erection. Breathless, she sat back up so that she was facing him, trying to gauge his reaction. Or lack thereof. "What's up?" she frowned.

"I dunno," he sighed. "Gimme another minute."

She was hesitant to keep going, considering how unusual this was. The only other time Rick couldn't get it up was after a particularly brutal fight, where he couldn't even walk for a while. It was becoming increasingly clear something was wrong, and it wasn't with his dick. She placed her palms to each side of his stomach, and then touched the back of her hand to his forehead, feeling nothing strange in his temperature either. "You're _sure_ you're okay?" she asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. But if a blowjob didn't make him feel better, she wasn't sure what would.

He shrugged, not wanting to give her yet another lame excuse, but that was all he had at the moment. "Maybe I am comin' down with somethin'," he decided to say.

Just then, Rick's phone lit up on his nightstand, signifying a message had come through, and both of them noticed, but purposely ignored it. Michonne climbed off of him and rolled to her side of the bed, trying not to take any of it personally. But it was difficult, because inwardly, it felt as though he was lying, and this was rejection - two things she wasn't used to in this relationship. "Well," she sighed, leaving the bed altogether. "I'm gonna go get some water. You want some tea or anything?"

He watched as she went to retrieve her robe, mad at himself for being unable to respond to this perfect woman sitting naked on top of him. He was losing it. "I'm just gonna try to go to sleep," he eventually declined.

Michonne turned back to him one last time, wishing she could read his mind. "Did you get some bad news about something?"

"No…"

She sighed again, rolling her eyes as she left the room in a cloud of frustration. And Rick felt that same frustration, knowing he was making things worse by not saying what was on his mind. Because Michonne knew him too well to pretend nothing was happening; to not notice he was practically drowning. But then, he knew her, too, and he couldn't put this on her plate. Not after everything she'd been through.

With his own tired exhale, he settled into his pillows and closed his eyes, just before remembering the text that had come through a few minutes beforehand. He could only hope it wasn't some sort of emergency, because he wasn't sure he could handle anything else that day.

He grabbed his phone, finding the message was from Magna, and he immediately wished it had been an emergency instead. But he went on to read it, knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid the situation forever.

_Hey. I just wanted to check in and see if you were feeling any better? I worry about you, probably more than I should. And I know that what happened today can't happen again, but I do hope this doesn't change our friendship. I don't share my thoughts easily, and I think it means something that I can share them with you. And if you meant what you said earlier, I hope it means something to you too. Anyway. I didn't mean to get sappy and shit. Just letting you know I'm here if you feel like talking. Or if you don't. Ha._

Rick couldn't help but smile just a little as he finished the message, finding that it had actually managed to make him feel better than worse. But reality quickly came crashing back down on him, and his eyes started to well with tears for the second time that day when he reminded himself that none of this was okay. _He_ wasn't okay, if he were being honest with himself. And as he deleted Magna's message, he laid back down, his tears falling backward, seeping into his pillowcase as he considered what he was doing to himself. To Michonne. To their marriage.

 _You can taste the dishonesty, it's all over your breath_  
_As you pass it off so cavalier_  
_But even that's a test  
_ _Constantly aware of it all_

When Michonne returned from downstairs, Rick's side of the room had gone dark. Which was only fitting, considering she'd been unable to see him the entire night. She brought him some water, even if he hadn't asked for it, leaving it on his nightstand before returning to her side of the bed. She left her own water on her bedside table and dropped her robe to the floor this time, unconcerned with putting it where it belonged. She just wanted to go to bed and hope that things would be back where they were supposed to be in the morning.

She quietly climbed into bed, cuddling up to Rick as she usually did, her arm across his waist, her head resting against his chest, allowing the rhythm of his breathing and the sound of his heartbeat to lull her to sleep. It was amazing to her that two people could be so close, yet feel so far away. She knew he wasn't fully asleep yet, as there was none of the snoring that came with his usual deep slumber. And so she hoped he would hear her as she quietly whispered against his warm skin, "Stay with me."

 _My lonely ear pressed against the walls of your world_  
_Prayin' I'll catch you whispering_  
_I'm prayin' you catch me listening  
_ _I'm prayin' I catch you whispering…_


	3. I'm Praying You Catch Me

Rick awoke to the sound of rain thumping against his bedroom window, refusing him the sleep he so desperately needed. Glancing up at his clock, the time read 4:05. Less than an hour before he needed to be up, and he wasn't sure he'd even gotten a cumulative hour in the six he'd been lying there. His mind was so loud, the rain didn't truly matter. Michonne had moved back to her own side of the bed, just her arm remaining across his chest by then, probably because even she could hear his rampant thoughts. He took her hand into his, resting both of them over his heart as he listened to the thunder that accompanied the downpour.

It didn't take long for his attention to drift back to the night before, and then the day before, when everything had gone awry. He'd been doing so well for so long - or so he thought. Three months, to be exact. Three months ago, when they realized they'd lost the baby, and he immediately put on the mask. The mask that said he was fine. Because Michonne was fine – or so she seemed - so he had to be fine, too. And ever since then, that mask, that façade, had been slipping, slowly, surely, until finally, it fell off.

And he wished he could've chalked it up to a wrong-place-wrong-time situation, but truthfully, he and Magna had always been just a little bit too comfortable. The flirting, the familiarity. He couldn't excuse that away with a bad day, and it was probably what made everything so much worse. The point of being married was to have someone to go through all of this with. But instead, he'd chosen to go at it alone, and then, with someone else. He wasn't sure how it had come to this, and now, he wasn't sure how to get out of it.

Rick turned toward his wife, getting an eyeful of the back of her head in return. Which was only fitting, considering. But he held her hand tightly and whispered, knowing she wouldn't hear him, "I'm still here."

 _I'm prayin' I catch you whispering_  
_I'm prayin' you catch me listening  
_ _I'm prayin' you catch me…_

* * *

_**The day before.** _

_"Sit," Magna instructed Rick, already headed for her wet bar to fix themselves a couple of drinks. She wasn't great with emotions, but given what he'd just confessed, she was pretty certain it was an occasion for alcohol. And that, she was good with._

_He glanced at his watch, knowing it was getting later than he felt comfortable with. In fact, he should've already been halfway home. "I shouldn't..."_

_"You just told me nobody cares about you. And you can pretend you were joking, but I know you weren't. So sit, and tell me what's going on."_

_He let out an exaggerated sigh, wishing he hadn't opened up this can of worms. He didn't mean to say it, even if he did feel it on some level. It wasn't something he'd made sense of yet, and so he had no business saying it out loud. "That's not what I meant."_

_"Then tell me what you meant," she shot back, gathering ice into two glasses before turning back to him. "What do you want to drink?"_

_He shook his head as he settled into her couch. Her house felt so foreign to him then, even though he'd been there probably fifty times. It was so unlike his own home. Small, quaint. "An old fashioned," he said without much thought._

_"All right. Shoot."_

_He looked over to her, still unsure of what to say. Whether he wanted to say it, really. "I dunno, I think I've just been workin' too hard."_

_"Well that's not news," she smirked. "Is that why you think no one cares?"_

_"I didn't mean that," he insisted. "I know people do. Michonne does."_

_"But..."_

_His tired eyes wandered to Magna's fireplace for several beats, his gaze getting lost in the low flame. He was remembering the night he and Michonne found out she had miscarried. It was months ago, but it felt like yesterday to him, probably because it replayed in his mind so often. He and Judith were in the yard, roasting marshmallows, when Michonne came out to join them. Something about the look on her face, or rather the blankness of it, he knew immediately, and his heart sank. But both of them put on a brave face for Judith, and then they never took them off. He wiped his face in the moment, as if he were crying the tears he should've cried that night and he sighed again as he looked back to Magna. "But... I don't know if anyone sees me anymore."_

_"The_ real _you?" she quipped sarcastically, as if it were a joke._

_Rick immediately rolled his eyes, feeling silly for saying such a thing. For thinking he could share this with anyone. "Forget it." He began to rise from the couch, wanting nothing more than to just go. He was longing for his hour-long drive back to Alexandria, where he could be alone. "I'm gonna go."_

_"I'm sorry," she quickly reconsidered, shaking her head at her gaffe. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to this. I'm nervous, and I'm stupid when I'm nervous."_

_"Which is why I didn't wanna talk about this."_

_"Nonsense." She moved across her living space, grabbing her fruit bowl from the kitchen before returning to him. "I know I'm not Michonne or even Glenn, but I like to think we're friends."_

_"I didn't know that was up for debate."_

_"So you can talk to me about shit." She began to slice up an orange for his drink as she waited for him to say something. But alas, he stayed silent. "Rick!"_

_"We had a miscarriage," he blurted out, immediately feeling lighter for it. He nervously scratched at his stubble as he waited for her reaction._

_Magna turned back to him, surprised by the news, and even more, by the emotion in his voice. His deep drawl was gone, replaced by a trembling timbre that she wasn't used to. "I didn't even know you guys were having a baby."_

_"We only told a few people," he mumbled, wiping his lips with the tips of his fingers – perhaps because it felt like these were words he shouldn't be saying. Not to her. "It was back in August, but… I haven't felt the same since it happened." A couple of real tears snuck down his cheeks and he wiped those, too. "…I think it might've broken my heart."_

_And it broke Magna's heart to hear it; to see him practically crumbling in front of her. "Rick…"_

_"I don't even know why. I thought I would be over it by now, but it's not goin' away."_

_She went to sit with him, uncertain what to say. Baffled by the fact that he was saying it to her. This did sound like a conversation for his wife. "And you think Michonne can't see that?"_

_"I dunno," he said, clearing his throat. "Maybe I haven't let her."_

_Magna found it hard to believe that Rick and his wife didn't communicate well. She had known them for three years, and while she hadn't spent a lot of time with Michonne, she was aware of the type of woman she was, and had an idea of the type of relationship they had. They seemed good. Better than good. So if Rick was holding back from her, there had to be a reason for it. "Well how has she been since… the miscarriage?" she asked tentatively._

_"She's been exactly the same." He scoffed at the thought, at the fact that he apparently had no idea how to do that himself._

_"You resent her for that?"_

_"I envy her for it." He sniffled and then sighed, figuring Magna must've thought him incredibly weak for all of this. He knew that she'd always admired him, and even quietly enjoyed the obvious crush she had on him. But he imagined that must've been fading quickly in the moment. "I really didn't mean to lay all this at your door," he said, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb._

_"No, I appreciate this. I appreciate you trusting me." She smiled at him comfortingly, brushing her fingers across his face to wipe his tears. She stared at him for much too long, seeing exactly what he'd been talking about for the past several minutes. Seeing_ him _. "It's embarrassing to admit this," she started, "but for as long as I can remember knowing you, I've always looked at you a bit enviously. Since the day I found Alexandria, really, I've always thought, 'I want what he has.'"_

_Rick almost flinched at the way she touched him, as it was something that Michonne often did - her thumb always tracing the scar beneath his right eye. But then he registered what Magna actually said, and he stared into her light brown eyes, wondering if she was being serious. "Really?"_

_"You have your wife and your cute little kid, and you've built this world of people that would do anything for you. You have everything, Rick. And so much of it."_

_"I guess it does look that way."_

_"But I look at you now. I'm finally seeing you, like you said. And you're so profoundly sad." She smiled ruefully, thinking how that was herself in a lot of ways. "Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see."_

_He took a sharp inhale, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about what a relief it was to finally hear that out loud. To acknowledge that he was sad. He needed that._

_He didn't know when it happened that he stopped talking to Michonne. Perhaps he never really started. He couldn't remember anymore. They were always so good at communicating without words. But it was the same thing Lori always complained to him about._ Speak _. He never thought he'd have that problem with Michonne. And yet... "I don't know how to tell her any of this."_

_Magna stared at their knees, side by side, so close, they were almost touching, and she rested her hand on his. "I'm gonna be honest, Rick. I really think she would understand."_

_He nodded, because that was probably true. Michonne was perfect in that way - she understood everything, going back to the days of him seeing visions of Lori at the prison. But there was the problem. She shouldn't have to understand this. She shouldn't have to will him through this. After Andre, after everything she'd survived, how was he supposed to tell her that he was broken over a child that didn't even exist yet? Not when she was doing just fine. He had been determined not to put this on her, too. "She lost her son in all this," he revealed quietly. He grimaced when he realized they'd never shared that information with anyone else, not even Glenn and Maggie. It was almost a Grimes family secret, even though Michonne always claimed it wasn't. "It was before we met, and I still don't know how she went on after that, but she did. She always does. And I just gotta… I dunno. Keep going."_

_She wasn't sure how to respond to that. Or any of it, really. He was dropping bomb after bomb, and the only thing she could think about was how she didn't know him the way she thought. All this time, thinking she had him figured out. Thinking the few minutes they spent together every few days, laughing, making fun of each other, were the makings of a friendship. But it wasn't until this moment, with him revealing so much of himself, that it finally felt real. And it was that realization that made her cry, frustrating as it was to show. "Goddamn it."_

_"I'm sorry," Rick forced himself to sober up when he saw that he was obviously overwhelming her. He'd never seen Magna cry before, not even when she lost all the people she'd arrived with. "I shouldn't be doing this to you."_

_"No, please stop apologizing," she pled, quickly wiping her face. "I just… I've felt so isolated for so long, I didn't realize how nice it would be to have someone to talk to, beyond a superficial level."_

_"Oh, so you're enjoying my pain."_

_The two of them laughed, despite the obvious strain on both of them, and Magna shook her head, as if she could shake away her feelings. "Rick, I can't pretend I know how to fix what's going on with you. I wouldn't know where to start, even if it were my place. But… I really am happy to listen. Always."_

_Rick nodded appreciatively, gazing at her with a small smile. He studied her, really, thinking of how much she actually reminded him of Lori. Her shade, her shape, her long, wavy brown hair. He chuckled to himself, wondering if he was going crazy again. And maybe he was, because some unexplainable urge came over him, and he found himself leaning in to her. For a kiss? He wasn't sure. Something, some kind of contact he shouldn't have been seeking from someone else, and he knew it. But when she met him halfway and their lips smashed together, he didn't stop himself. In fact, he deepened the kiss, melting into her as their lips locked, followed shortly by their tongues. His mind went racing as he found himself on his back before long, with Magna on top of him, her fingers running through his hair as if she were Michonne. His dick getting hard as if he were underneath his wife. But he wasn't. She was not Michonne._

_Her hands were moving even faster than either of their minds were, and she was unbuckling his belt before either of them knew it. But once realization struck, Rick quickly sat up, breaking their contact just as quickly as it had begun. "Fuck." He briefly glanced at Magna from the corner of his eye, where she had moved to the other side of the small sofa. "I shouldn't have done that," he declared, knowing he was stating the obvious._

_She nervously brushed her hair from her face as she nodded, embarrassed by her sudden rush of desperation. Taking advantage of his pain when she knew better, too. Loneliness was a son of a bitch. "I'm so sorry."_

_"You didn't do anything," he assured her, standing from the couch to refasten his jeans. His heart was going about a mile a minute as he thought about what Michonne would think if she could see him right now. "I'm sorry." He let out a wobbly sigh as he wiped at his lips and moved across the room to retrieve that drink she'd started on for him. His hands were shaking, because he didn't understand what was happening, and he just needed something to calm him down._

_"It'll be okay," Magna offered, watching as he downed the brown liquor in practically one gulp. "This was… it was nothing. Nothing happened."_

_He ignored her then, because he knew it wouldn't be nothing to Michonne. It wasn't even nothing to him. "I gotta go," he said, finishing even the garnish of his drink before practically slamming the glass back to the counter. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts and his bearings before turning for the door._

* * *

Rick stood at the back door of his home, staring out at the approaching evening. The rain hadn't stopped from the morning, and so a lot of what he'd had planned for the day had been postponed. No distractions from his scattered mind. He held his phone in his hand, knowing he had to make this call after avoiding it all day. Avoiding _her_ all day. And in that moment, he almost longed for the days when none of those things worked. No calls, no texts, no emails. If you needed to talk to someone, you had to wait until you could see them. But now, no more excuses. Eugene made it so that communication was easy again. Which somehow made it so much harder.

Hesitantly, he finally unlocked his phone and found Magna's name in the contacts, pressing the call button before he could chicken out. He swallowed hard, both relieved and vexed when she answered within a couple of rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he greeted her, his voice scratchy from the lack of talking he'd done all day. "You alone?"

"Yeah, I was actually just coming inside." Her voice sounded uncharacteristically peppy. She was happy to hear from him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied with a long sigh. "I just… I got your message."

"Oh. Good." Her voice flattened a bit as she recognized he had gotten and just didn't respond. "I wasn't sure."

"Yeah, I couldn't answer."

She nodded into the phone, figuring he'd probably told his wife what happened. He was honorable in that way. "Should I be worried about getting a katana to my neck soon?" she tried to joke.

Rick let out a light chuckle, but returned to being serious rather quickly. "You don't need to worry. I'm not gonna tell her about that."

It was Magna's turn to sigh in relief, but she knew that didn't necessarily make things any better for him. "What about the other stuff?"

"I dunno yet," he said honestly. He put his hand up the glass of the door, his fingers tracing the raindrops that decorated it. "Listen, I don't know how else to say this, but I think we should probably just… stay away from each other from here on out."

"Rick-"

"I know that's not fair. The only thing you did was try to be there for me. But I don't think things can be the same. Not with you, and not with Michonne, if I allow you to be in my life."

"But... " She shook her head, stopping herself from protesting. "I mean, does this mean I can't talk to you anymore? You come to Hilltop and I have to pretend I don't notice you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. He didn't know anything anymore. "We can be cordial, I think. But I can't go hanging out at your house, talking to you like…" His words trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she said, matching the softness of his voice. "I never meant to put you in a tough position. The end of the world is just lonely sometimes."

Rick nodded to himself. "It can feel lonely, even when you're not alone."

"Yeah," she sniffled.

He began to say something to cap off their sad conversation, but the sound of the front door startled him, immediately followed by Judith's giggling, and he had to rush to end things with Magna. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Okay, well take-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he'd hung up, making his way to the kitchen, where he could try and look busy. He threw his phone to the counter, and went to the refrigerator, pulling out some leftover chicken salad for them to have for dinner. It was just a matter of seconds before Michonne and Judith were inside, and the youngest Grimes came running into the kitchen to greet him.

"Daddy!" she squealed, squeaking over to him in her galoshes.

He smiled as she hugged his waist, running his fingers through her wet hair. "Hey, sweetheart." Michonne followed in after her, and he immediately noticed she was practically soaked, much more than Judith. "Is it raining that hard?"

Michonne rolled her eyes at the entire situation. "Apparently, someone decided it was okay to abandon their post at the gate. I had to climb up and open it manually."

"Are you serious?"

"I tried calling you to come out, but it didn't seem to be going through," she shrugged.

He nodded, figuring that was probably because he'd been on the phone at the time. Something else to feel guilty about. "I'll find out who was supposed to be out there," he offered.

With a sigh, she peeled off her coat and began to pull her wet locs into a giant bun at the top of her head. "Whoever it is, send them to live somewhere else."

With Judith attached to his leg, he moved across the room to give her a quick kiss. "I will."

She stared at him as he walked away, wondering if he was feeling better from whatever had been ailing him the night before. It was hard to tell off the bat, given how he was essentially always happy with Judith. "How was your day?" she decided to ask.

"Good," he grinned, feeling the tension in his face, his chapped lips nearly cracking as he attempted a smile for the first time all day. He knew it probably looked fake, too. "How was yours?"

"I got to see Maggie today, so it was good."

His smile instantly threatened to turn to a frown as he thought about the implication. "You were at Hilltop today?"

"You think I went there and wouldn't mention Carl?" She shook her head, seeing that the strangeness and the strain between them clearly wasn't over. It wasn't lost on her that this was the second time he'd gotten anxious at the mention of Hilltop. One half of her hoped he was planning some epic surprise that he didn't want her to find out about, but the other half knew that just wasn't true.

"So where'd you see her?"

"Tracy has some project she wanted the schools to be in on, so we all met at Dalton to discuss."

Rick nodded, gazing down at Judith as she began to finally remove her raincoat. "And how was your day?"

"It was good. I learned to make a rabbit share!" she revealed proudly.

He looked to Michonne for a translation. "Snare?"

"Yes," she smirked, maneuvering to the refrigerator for the orange juice before heading for the living room to grab the vodka. She wasn't especially interested in having liquor that evening, as she wasn't in the habit of sad drinking, but the awkwardness of the room was just too much.

"Miss Allison said it was a share," Judith insisted.

"I think you misheard her," Rick chuckled, taking her coat and bag. He set them on the counter, alongside where he'd left his phone, and he caught another text from Magna, just as it came in.

_I understand you had to leave. But I wanted to say, please take care of yourself. If I can't be there for you, you should make sure someone is._

"Daddy, have you ever caught a rabbit before?"

Preoccupied, he quickly deleted the text, as well as Magna's contact information altogether, all while Michonne had her back turned. "I have," he eventually answered once he the distraction was gone. "Your brother and I used to catch them all the time."

"Did you eat them?"

"Well, yeah. Back then we had to." He looked at Michonne as she rejoined them in the kitchen, smiling as he reminisced on those days, back at the prison, on the road, and he wondered if she recalled them as fondly as he did. "You remember when we were headed to Terminus?"

 _Nothing else ever seems to hurt like the smile on your face_  
_When it's only in my memory, it don't hit me quite the same  
_ _Maybe it's a cause for concern_

She stared at him – glared at him, really – uninterested in merrily recollecting the past when he couldn't even share what was presently wrong with him. She'd overheard the pause in his conversation with Judith, and knew he'd gone somewhere else. Again. Even his daughter couldn't hold his attention, it seemed. "Is this dinner?" she ignored him to ask, pointing to the chicken salad set on the counter.

"Is that all right?"

"It's fine."

Judith looked up at both her parents, feeling the tension in the room, even if she was unable to express that as the case. "Can we watch a movie with dinner tonight?" she hoped.

"Why don't we go pick one out," Rick immediately agreed, more than ready to get out of that kitchen. Nothing was cooking, but it felt as though it was burning up in there, beneath Michonne's stare.

Michonne watched him leave, scoffing as he disappeared with Judith. He was acting like more of a child than their child. When something was wrong with her, she would vocalize it. And once upon a time, Rick did, too, and she couldn't figure out why that had changed. Why she was stuck having to read clues that weren't there. All day long, she'd been trying to find signs that didn't exist. What he had for breakfast; what shirt he wore; whether any of the liquor in the house had been consumed; whether the lights were on when they came home. He'd turned her into a detective of her own life, and she hated it.

 _But I'm not at ease keeping my head to the curb  
_ _Prayed I catch you whispering_

And as she stood there at that counter, his phone staring back at her, she began to hate herself, too. Because she was strongly considering looking at, investigating it, to see if it would provide any answers. This wasn't her. And this wasn't their relationship. He left his phone laying around all the time. He didn't seem to think much of it, and neither did she. The trust between them was implicit. They didn't have secrets; knew each other too well to even keep them. But now, here she was, on the outside, looking in, and she just needed _something_. She was desperate for anything that would tell her why her husband was suddenly slipping away. And if it meant going through his phone, she was willing to do that. Even if it broke her heart – and it did - because this meant that that trust was frayed, if not completely unraveled. But that didn't stop her from snatching up the phone, not even bothering to be discreet about it. Right there, in their wide open kitchen, she began to scroll through his calls.

 _I pray you catch me listening_  
_I prayed I catch you whispering  
_ _I pray you catch me_


	4. There's Something That I'm Missing, Maybe My Head, For One

Michonne laid sleepless in her bed, cold in every sense of the word as she thought about Rick and his stupid phone. She'd gone through it with a fine-toothed comb - his entire call log, all of his texts, every email available. Nothing. She went through all of it and then checked again, and didn't get anything even remotely strange but an unnamed number at the top of his call list. And she was so desperate, she even considered calling it like some crazy, jealous wife. But there were a ton of different unidentified numbers there, because people called Rick all the time. And she wasn't going to call them all, even if she really wanted to. Even though her gut was telling her to. But Rick had never given her a reason not to trust him, so she let it go, retiring early with her doubts and her drink. She'd hoped the liquor would do its job of getting her to sleep, but like everything else in her life, it seemed to be failing at the moment. So instead, she just laid there. Thinking.

It was a couple of hours before Rick came up for the night. He and Judith watched Finding Nemo for the millionth time, and he got her fed, bathed, and off to bed while Michonne was upstairs. He was nervous as he walked into his bedroom, unsure of what to expect when he got there. She had been so annoyed with him, maybe even angry, and justifiably, he wasn't sure how this conversation was going to go. But a conversation was needed, he knew, and he couldn't be scared of it. Avoiding it was what caused all of his problems in the first place.

When he walked into their room, she was asleep. Or at least, she was pretending to be, as the entire room was too dark to truly tell. And he hated to wake her up, but if he waited until morning, he might lose what little resolve he did have about the situation. "Michonne," he called out in a whisper, simultaneously hoping that she would and wouldn't answer.

She'd heard him come in, but had, indeed, been pretending to be asleep. It took her a moment to decide whether she wanted to respond, but in the end, she gave up the ruse, just in case he had something to say worth hearing. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Are _you_?" she quipped.

He sighed as he moved toward his side of the room, pulling off his t-shirt on the way. He took a seat to pull off his boots, staring out at the moon as he decided how to answer that question. And finally – finally – he decided to let her in. "No."

Michonne turned her head in his direction, feeling like she must've somehow misheard him. After an entire day of begging him for an answer, was she finally getting it? "What?"

"I don't think I am," he repeated. "We had a miscarriage," he went on to declare, as if she didn't know. "And I thought I was okay, but it's been a long, slow process to realize I'm not."

Michonne sat up then, staring at the back of his head as she processed his words. Frowning as the news hit her. She wasn't sure why she was surprised, as Rick was the one that wanted a baby in the first place. But hearing that this was what had been bothering him, and he'd decided not to say anything, she wasn't sure how to respond. Whether to be mad or sad. "That's why you've been acting like this?"

"I think there's been a… void ever since it happened. It felt like somethin' was always gnawing at me, and I could never tell what. Thought maybe it was just that depression that sneaks up on you when the weather gets cold. Or just being tired of being tired." He wiped his eyes before the tears could even start. "But no, I think it's this."

"Why haven't you said anything," she demanded, ultimately landing on anger. Angry that he had her checking his phone for clues when he could've just said this in the first place.

He turned back to her, giving her a knowing look before landing back on the window. He didn't want to put this on her, because he chose his course of action, but then, she _was_ the reason for it. "Because you never wanted to talk about it."

She instantly retracted her claws a bit when she considered that he was right about that. Frustratingly right. After it happened, she wasn't exactly the best communicator herself. Not because she didn't want to talk about it, but simply because she had nothing to say. She had no feelings about it. Or rather, not the right ones. And she should've known that that wasn't how Rick operated, but somehow, she'd missed it. She'd been pleasantly surprised by how well he'd been handling it, in fact. "So you've just been going through all this alone?"

"I didn't know I was going through anything until a couple of days ago. Maybe that's why we should've talked about it," he quietly scoffed. "It was like everything just… exploded in my mind all of a sudden." He shook his head, looking up at the ceiling, thinking of how much he hated that he couldn't get through this without dragging her into it. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry for not seeing it," she returned, reaching out to touch is back. There was still so much tension there, she could feel it in her fingers just barely caressing him. "For me, I just wanted to move on, and I know – I should've known – that things don't happen that way for you."

He nodded, but he always wondered if they even happened that way for her. Did she come home and drink every other night because she didn't care, or because she did? He couldn't tell. He didn't know. And asking her about it always garnered the same response of, 'Everything is fine.' They were apparently alike in that way, only she was a much better actor. It was believable when she said it. "Can we talk about it now?" he asked.

Michonne exhaled quietly, relieved to finally know what the hell was going on with him. She moved over to his side of the bed and kneeled beside him, twirling his nape hair around her fingers, and she nodded, wanting nothing more than to talk about it, for as long as he needed. "Yes."

"I feel almost silly asking this again," he began, staring blankly at the windowsill, "but were you really okay? After everything?"

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, somewhat ashamed to admit her real feelings on the matter. She didn't share them at first, because she hadn't realized it herself, and then once she did, she was scared to let him know. Thankful that he'd finally stopped asking about it. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes again, praying that he wouldn't hate her for what she was about to say. "I think I was relieved," she confessed, her voice sounding small as the words came out.

He turned his head in her direction, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he asked, "Why?"

"I was excited about the pregnancy," she promised, still caressing his curls. "Having a baby with you made the dream complete. Like you said, 'someone with both of us.' The idea of that was… potent. But here and there, these doubts would creep in," she intimated. "I'm almost forty. And even in the old world, pregnancy was difficult for older women. So in this world, where things are better, they're still not perfect. Not that I'm not proud of all the advancements we've made. And all the children we've seen come into the world the last few years. But doctors aren't magicians, and our hospitals are still just beds in a house. And every other day, I would think about what happened to Lori, and I was - parts of me were terrified, Rick. So when we lost the baby, I just felt… relief."

Rick nodded sadly, wiping at a tear that had managed to escape. He wished he had known any of this. He hated that he hadn't been able to tell, probably too happy about the pregnancy to notice his wife was panicked by it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She rested her forehead on his shoulder and sighed regretfully. "Because you wanted this."

He chewed at his bottom lip as he nodded again. It was all so obvious in hindsight. Michonne always said Judith and Carl were enough. And he knew she meant it. Before that, she told him how Andre was all she ever wanted. _He_ was the one that wanted a baby. He set all of this in motion. "Do you feel like I talked you into it?"

"I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't want to," she made sure to say emphatically.

He knew there was more to that sentence, just based on her tone. "But?"

"But," she continued, "I don't know that I ever would've wanted it if you didn't."

Rick leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried to think of what to say. How did it come to this? Two people so hellbent on protecting each other, they were hurting themselves. "Why couldn't we have had this conversation before?" he asked, mostly of himself.

"Before what?"

 _Before I ruined everything_ , he thought. "Before it came to this."

She shook her head, rubbing his back affectionately as she did. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize," he whispered. He reached back to find her hand, taking it into his, pulling her closer to him. "Something broke between us, and I just wanna fix it."

"How do we do that?"

He let out a sigh, gazing out of their bedroom window at that same rain that had haunted him all day. "I dunno. Maybe we start saying what's bothering us instead of relying on our abilities to read each other's minds."

"Speak," Michonne smirked, doing her imitation of Rick imitating Lori. "That's probably a good idea."

"Fail, fail again, fail better," he mumbled.

She cocked her head to the side, questioning whether he was actually talking to her or to himself. "Hmm?"

"It was somethin' my father used to say. 'Fail. Fail again. Fail better.'" He chuckled to himself as he shook his head. "I used to think it was stupid. And then the world ended, and my life became a series of failures, and I finally figured out what it meant."

"Your life is not a series of failures, Rick."

"No, I know. We've won a lot, too." He pulled their clasped hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. "But the failures always taught me the biggest lessons. I want that to be true for us, too."

In return, she kissed his bare shoulder, relieved that she could feel close to him again. "It will be."

He smiled at the feel of her lips, his head lowered as he reveled in her body heat. The two of them sat like that for minutes on end, quiet and comfortable in each other's presence again. Rick let out a small exhale, and began to suggest that they get some sleep, but it was then that he noticed the flowery white flannel that covered her knees and he paused. He turned to get a full view of her, finding that she was dressed in what might've qualified as the ugliest nightgown he had ever seen. "What are you wearing?" he laughed out loud.

Michonne giggled too, glancing down at her choice of pajamas. "It's warm," she defended.

"It better be." He stared at its long puffy sleeves and lacy collar, shaking his head. "Where did you even find it?"

"It came with the house. Just never had an occasion to use it."

"It took you five and a half years to find one?"

"Well," she shrugged, "I might've wanted to make it crystal clear that we wouldn't be having sex tonight."

He chuckled again, "You thought I didn't get the message when you stared me down in the kitchen?"

"It didn't seem like you'd been getting anything the past couple of days, so…"

"Fair enough." Rick found himself smiling genuinely in that moment, and he breathed a sigh of relief, not unlike the one Michonne had expressed a few minutes before. It was amazing how much better he felt with just one long-overdue conversation. Of course, he wasn't 100% better, still guilt-ridden by what he'd done, still saddened by their loss. But being able to talk to Michonne – not Magna, but his _wife_ – everything seemed so much clearer. Brighter. The day before was his low point. He'd gotten lost on his way home. But he was back now. He would be better now.

"But at this point," Michonne began to say, her fingertips stroking his arm, "I'd be willing to reconsider."

He turned his head toward her again, making sure she wasn't just teasing him. "Yeah?"

"Let's just say I'm in a much better mood now." And also, she just really wanted to be close to him again. She wasn't used to distance between them, and she was eager to put things back where they were supposed to be.

Rick licked his lips as he grinned at her proposition. "Me, too."

And with that, he spun around to face her, his lips going for her neck as the two of them went falling back against the bed. He loved Michonne's giggle whenever he did that. It sounded like she was happy, and that was all he ever wanted her to be. And so, as he devoured her delectable skin, her legs wrapping around his waist, he closed his eyes, attempting to block out what he'd done. Even though his gut was telling him to confess all of his sins, he would ignore them, trying to convince himself that Magna was right - nothing happened. Nothing else would happen. He could and would move on, fixing what he broke.

"Hey," Michonne called out to him, breaking his stride of kisses and rampant thoughts. As he pulled up to look at her, she rested her hand on his cheek as she stared into his eyes. Her thumb traced the scar below his left one, and she smiled, because it felt like she was seeing him slowly come back to her. "Don't ever leave me like that again."

"I won't," he answered confidently.

She nodded for him to resume kissing her, and he did, one hand pulling up her nightgown, the other gripping her thigh, as he got into position between them once more. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, her fingers into his hair, and she expected a moan in reply, as that was his usual response. Especially considering it'd been four days since their last fuck, which was long for them. But he stayed quiet as he kissed her, which gave her slight pause. Of course, the emotions of the evening wouldn't magically disappear just because sex was on the table, and so she chalked it up to that. But it was clear that the last 24 hours had sparked a paranoia in her that wasn't going to immediately go away either. She made an attempt at reaching for his jeans, wanting to see if his dick was getting hard, but then his fingers moved inside her, his thumb massaging her clit, and that unease did seem to dissipate - momentarily, at least. "Shit," she moaned quietly.

He explored her depths for several seconds, hitting her G-spot with ease, and he smiled at the sound that came out of her mouth as he did. It always turned him on, being able to get her wet almost immediately. Her slick folds felt like heaven in physical form. Tasted like it too, and he licked his fingers to express as much.

While Rick sat up to unfasten his jeans, Michonne pulled off her nightgown altogether, revealing her naked body to him. Her nipples were erect from the slight chill of the room, and they stiffened even more when he pulled out his hard cock. Relieved she wouldn't have to try and fail to get him up tonight, she smirked at him as she opened her legs wider, welcoming him back. He worked his way out of his pants, the two of them chuckling at their creaky box spring, a reminder of all the good times they'd had in that room.

"You promised me a new bed," Michonne reminded him, watching his face as he removed his watch, too.

"For Christmas," he promised, with a grin to match. His gaze wandered the length of her entire body, from her hairline to her toenails, stopping here and there to admire her form. Her plump lips and supple tits, her taut stomach and ridiculously toned thighs and the paradise that lived between them. He never quite found her eyes though, subconsciously, and maybe consciously, avoiding them. He leaned in for another kiss instead, consuming her lips as he finally pushed into her.

The two of them quietly grunted at the sensation, Michonne clenching herself around him once he'd gotten in deep enough. His thrusts came slow and gentle, as if he were suddenly afraid of breaking her, and she found herself grabbing at his hips, trying to coerce him into picking up the pace. But he didn't seem to be reading her signals, so she decided to just say it, gripping his hair as she whispered, "Faster, baby."

Silently, he acquiesced, pumping into her faster, harder, the headboard knocking against the wall, matching the pace of their heavy breaths. Trying to hold out, he began to kiss her neck again, his lips sucking at her throat, while her tits bounced against his chest, driving him crazy. He couldn't believe he ever even thought to look at someone else. Not when he had this. "I love you," he proclaimed between kisses and thrusts.

Michonne was thrown by his declaration, or more precisely, the tone of it. The desperation. It wasn't something he said often, and certainly not while they were fucking, but when he did, it sounded like he meant it. She _knew_ he meant it. But hearing it then, it hit her quite differently. As if he was trying to convince her of something she never questioned. And suddenly, just when she was starting to feel like things were normal - or at least, they could be - it felt like everything had been knocked out of place again. Except for that gut feeling she'd been having. No, that was right where she'd left it. "I love you, too," she eventually nodded back, knowing there was probably a frown on her face as she said it. But she couldn't help it. Because all she could wonder was, _is it him, or is it me?_


	5. What A Wicked Way To Treat The Girl That Loves You

_Something don't feel right, because it ain't right_  
_Especially coming up after midnight_  
_I smell your secrets_  
_And I'm not too perfect to ever feel this worthless_  
_How did it come down to this?_  
_Scrolling through your call list_  
_I don't wanna lose my pride, but I'mma fuck me up a bitch_  
_Know that I kept it sexy, I know I kept it fun  
_ _There's something that I'm missing, maybe my head for one_

* * *

"Mommy!"

Michonne looked up from her current task of fastening Judith's overnight bag, trying to decipher the tone of her daughter's yell for her. Knowing Judith as well as she did, it could've been anything from an emergency to her finishing her breakfast. So she decided to ask. "Yes?" she called back.

"William went outside!"

She immediately dropped the bag to Judith's bed and rushed down the stairs, still yelling on her way down. "What!"

"William went outside," Judith repeated, emphasizing each word in a sing-song tone that she often used.

When Michonne got to the kitchen, Judith was still eating her toast as if nothing was wrong, and she found that Sasha's son had, in fact, made his way out of the back door. "Shit," she hissed, heading out to follow him. He'd been at her house for all of five minutes, and already she'd lost him. Luckily, 3-year-olds don't get _too_ far on their own, and she found him running in the yard, banging on the wall that protected their homes. She couldn't help but laugh, because she was certain he was imitating Abraham, who was always fixing some thing or another – the wall, in particular. "Andre!" she called out to him before she could think. Shaking her head at her slip up, she buried her face in her hands and tried again. "Will!"

He giggled in response to her, not seeming to know the difference, and quickly came running. He looked so much like her little one from far away, it was sometimes jarring when she'd see Sasha and Abe with him. With his sandy red curls and freckles, he was unmistakably his own little person, but every now and then, it hit her in a strange way that she couldn't control.

He made his way back to her, just as Rick came around the side of the house, wondering what all the commotion was about. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," she said, squinting past the morning sun at him. "You got everything in the car?"

"Everything but our bags," he nodded, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "I dunno where they're gonna fit, but… no one'll go hungry, at least."

Michonne nodded back as she scooped the toddler into her arms, and just that simple act made her wish she hadn't volunteered to cook so much. Her body was tired after being up nearly all night prepping Thanksgiving dishes. She figured it would keep her distracted from everything else going on at home, but it only seemed to exhaust her more. "I was just bringing Judith's bag down when he decided to make his grand escape."

"I'll get 'em when I come in," he offered, still staring at her. He questioned whether to even bring up her calling William by her son's name, and quickly came to the conclusion that he should. Little things like that kept him wondering if she was as all right as she claimed to be. He reached out a hand to touch William's foot, smiling at his mini-combat boots, and then looked back up to Michonne. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she frowned, taking a step back from his questioning gaze.

"Michonne…"

"It was a slip of the tongue," she retorted, already knowing where he was headed. "I really am fine."

He held up his hands in surrender, and gestured toward the front of their complex. "I'm gonna go pick up some extra gas, and then I'm ready."

She nodded, watching him saunter off, while she headed back inside with William on her hip, and Judith waiting for her at the kitchen door.

"Where's Daddy going?" she asked, also watching him through the window.

"He's getting us ready to go," she answered as she set William down. He ran off to the living room before she could stop him, and she only chuckled along with Judith. "He's three," she reminded her.

"Was I like that when I was three?"

"You were worse," she teased her. "You were loud, and you got into everything, and you left plastic cups all over the house."

Judith scrunched her little nose at the notion. "Plastic cups?"

"They were your favorite toy."

"Nuh uh."

"They were," she promised, grinning at the memory. She moved further into the kitchen with Judith right on her heels. "I'm sure we have pictures of you somewhere with those cups."

She was playing with the ends of her mother's waist-long hair as she questioned the validity of her story. "I wanna see."

"When we get back," she promised, her eyes surveying the counters to make sure Rick had gotten everything.

"Mom _my_ ," she protested.

"Ju _dy_ ," Michonne sent back, mimicking her intonation.

Judith looked up at her in mild surprise. "You never call me that."

She shook her head at how precocious she was - and absolutely correct, as she always called her 'Cutie' instead. "Go put on your shoes," she instructed, an amused smile taking over her face. "And make sure William doesn't run out of the house again."

"Can I wear my snow boots?" she asked, already running off toward the closet.

"It's not snowing!" she called after her. Still chuckling, she finished what was left of Judith's toast and brought their dishes to the sink to wash. From the kitchen window, she could see Rick and Abraham traipsing across the street, laughing. She scoffed at the sight, wondering what it was he found so amusing. Maybe there was something funny about the fact that she couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with him lately. Perhaps he was reveling in how inscrutable he was. The past two weeks of their lives had been a series of passive interactions, punctuated with obligatory fucking every few nights, just to keep up the charade in their home. But they were filling the gap between them with all the things they weren't saying to each other. And she certainly didn't find it funny, but maybe that's what he was laughing at. The fact that he was slowly driving her insane.

 _What's worse? Looking jealous or crazy, jealous or crazy?_  
_Or like, being walked all over lately, walked all over lately  
_ _I'd rather be crazy_

Outside, Rick had gassed up their SUV, and was prepared to head inside to pick up their bags, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It had been going off all morning, random people wishing him Happy Thanksgiving and the like, and he replied to as many as he could. But then, in between all of that, Magna had called. Not once, but twice now, and again the day before. He couldn't imagine what she would've wanted, so he ignored the first two, figuring she would get the picture soon enough. But it seemed that she hadn't, and with his family headed to Hilltop, he didn't want to walk into any surprises, so he went back to the car and gave her a call back.

"I was starting to think you blocked my number," she greeted him, her voice relaying her relief at seeing his name on her caller ID.

"That why you kept callin'?" he quipped.

"Oh yikes," she chuckled nervously upon hearing his flat tone. "I'm sorry."

"I don't mean to be rude," he promised. "I just thought it was clear that we couldn't talk anymore."

"No, I know. It's just – I know you're coming out here today. With Michonne. And I just…" she paused, letting out a small sigh. She felt like such an idiot for calling him like this. "Is there anything I need to know? Did you tell her?"

"I already told you I wouldn't," he replied. "And you know I would've said something if that changed." He sighed too as he glanced at his watch, knowing they were supposed to be leaving soon. "I really gotta go." He ended the call without any other words, stowing his phone in the pocket of his jacket as headed back up to the house. Michonne was coming down the stairs as he entered, and he just looked up at her guiltily, as if she could've somehow known who he was just talking to. But that was simply how he looked at her all the time now – either with guilt or with worry. "You all ready?"

She gestured toward their bag at the bottom of the steps. "Yep."

"Judith," he called out, hearing her running in the background.

"Yes!"

"She can't find her coat," Michonne informed him, handing over her purple overnight bag as well. "I'll get Will."

He nodded, heading back outside with the last of their things, and he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket again. He didn't have to look to know it was Magna, and he could feel his frustration rising with every ring. There was just no way this could end well. Still, he went on with his tasks, opening all of the car doors as he waited for his family to follow. Down the street, Sasha and Abraham were piling into their car with Aaron and Eric, Tara and her girlfriend Amanda, along with their baby. Others dotted the streets in their carpool arrangements to get to Hilltop. And finally, Michonne came out of the house toting William, with Judith trailing behind her, and he stared for a moment too long, envisioning what his family might have looked like in a year or two.

"What?" Michonne frowned, noticing his gaze.

He shook away his thoughts and took Judith's hand. "Nothin'," he answered with a glum smile. "You got your iPod?"

"You know I'm not about to listen to your music for an hour," she smirked. "It's in the side of our bag."

"Daddy, what's wrong with your music?" Judith wondered, gleefully leading him toward her side of the car.

Rick chuckled as he hoisted her into her car seat and began to adjust her coat. "Mommy just doesn't like it is all."

"Oh." She watched his expression as he buckled her in, and she reached out her little hand to touch his face, the way she'd seen her mother do a million times before. "When are you gonna shave your beard, Daddy?"

"Do you want me to shave my beard?"

"Ummmm. Yes."

He glanced over to Michonne as she helped William into his own car seat, grinning at the sight, paired with Judith's amusing choice of conversation. "And why is that?"

"Because it tickles my face when you give me a kiss."

"No way." He immediately moved in to give her one of those kisses, purposely nuzzling her face with his beard, while she giggled uncontrollably.

Michonne watched their exchange, unable to stop herself from smiling at how sickeningly cute they were. Witnessing moments like this, it was so hard to imagine Rick as anyone but the man she'd been so in love with all these years. He was such a good father, and he was still a good husband, but he was hiding from her, and she didn't know why. She ached to know where he went every day, when she'd notice him staring into the distance, or fixated on her for a little too long. He was like a magician, able to exist in two places at once. Completely present with Judith one minute, and then gone in his thoughts the very next. And all she wished was that he would take her with him.

 _Hold up, they don't love you like I love you_  
_Slow down, they don't love you like I love you_  
_Back up, they don't love you like I love you  
_ _Step down, they don't love you like I love you_

* * *

Before long, the Grimes crew was halfway to Hilltop, enjoying a pleasant, quiet ride on the empty roads across DC. The music was low so that the littlest one could sleep, so Rick and Michonne settled in on some meaningless conversation while Judith read one of her books. It had been a good start to their Thanksgiving, for all intents and purposes.

"In all seriousness," Michonne began to say, "Judy is right. You should shave."

"No," Rick immediately began to protest, feeling almost offended that Michonne had apparently changed her mind on the matter because of Judith, "you said you liked my beard in the wintertime."

"I said it _looked_ like wintertime," she corrected him teasingly. "All that white hair. You should be Santa for the Christmas party this year."

"All right," he grinned, knowing she was joking. Glad that she was joking with him. "I'll give myself a makeover when we come home Sunday."

She smiled in satisfaction as she turned back to the kids to make sure they were all right. "I'm glad we'll be away from home for a couple of days," she commented, resting her head against her headrest so that she could see the side of his face. "Maybe we just need a vacation."

Rick nodded, hoping that that could somehow be true. That getting away for a couple of days would be a reset in some way. But with Magna living there, he knew that would be a struggle for him. He'd be walking on twice the amount of eggshells all weekend, which likely wouldn't make for a great vacation. "I'm glad you'll get to see Carl."

Michonne closed her eyes, just picturing his face. It had been almost a month since she'd seen him last. "Me, too."

"It still boggles my mind that he's so far away. It's not even that far, but it feels far."

She offered an understanding smile as she submitted, "And I don't think it's helped with… whatever you're going through."

"Probably not," he agreed. He reached out to touch Michonne's knee, relieved when she rested her hand on top of his as they continued their drive. He glanced back at Judith in the rearview mirror, amused by how she looked like a mini version of her mother with her head buried in her story. "We gotta find her some more books," he noted quietly.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to raid a library soon. She's gone through nearly everything."

"I think she has them memorized," he chuckled.

"Oh, she absolutely does. She was 'reading' to me the other night, and she wasn't even looking at the page." Michonne laughed again, just thinking about it. "She's so funny."

"So books for Christmas this year?"

"A couple of new toys," she granted, "but yeah, I think so." She found herself rubbing her thumb along Rick's as she contemplated all the titles she had in her library as a child. "I really wanna find a good copy of _The Velveteen Rabbit_ for her."

Rick glanced over at her, remembering her mentioning it before. It was one of her favorite books growing up, and the last one she'd ever read to Andre. "We'll find one."

"Christmastime is when I miss Amazon the most," she said, half-serious, half-silly. "It could all be so simple."

"Daddy," Judith called out, interrupting their congenial conversation.

"Judith," he answered, catching her cherubic face in his mirror once again.

"Your phone is shaking."

He let out a sigh, hoping it was literally anybody but Magna. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, reaching for his jacket, draped over the back of his seat. But Michonne got to it first, finding it in his pocket and handing it over to him. "Thank you."

"Mmhm." She had only gotten a glimpse at the caller, as it stopped vibrating when she handed it over, and she still hated to be the wife that had to pry, but she'd seen enough to know that it was an unnamed number. Another quick vibration told her that they'd either left a voicemail or sent a text, and she couldn't help but watch Rick as he read it and sighed again. "What's wrong?" she questioned.

Rick scratched his eyebrow in a mixture of frustration and trepidation, but shook his head. "It's nothin'."

"Hmm." She immediately turned back to the window, wishing she hadn't bothered to ask. She knew what the answer would be before it even came out of her mouth. Since things had been going well for all of half an hour, she took a leap of faith that he might reply with something in the ballpark of honest, but it was her own fault for trying. So much for having a good Thanksgiving.

 _Can't you see there's no other man above you?_  
_What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you_  
_Hold up, they don't love you like I love you  
_ _Slow down, they don't love you like I love you_

* * *

By noon, all of the Alexandrians had arrived safely to the Hilltop settlement, and were getting situated in their various trailers and homes for the weekend. The place had grown exponentially since Rick's group first discovered it - in farmland and in residents - and they were building more every day, so space was ample. Still, the Grimes faction decided to stay with Maggie and Glenn for the weekend, as that was the way they'd always done it. Along with Carol, they'd been together the longest, so when they came back together, it was like being with family again.

And as the family gathered, everyone was scattered around the Rhee home, everyone preparing for dinner in some manner or another. Rick's usefulness in the kitchen was outweighed by nearly everyone else, so he'd become the errand-runner for the afternoon – transporting food to cook at other houses when ovens were full; taking out the trash; borrowing ingredients from neighbors when possible. He was off on another mission, obtaining milk from the community grocery for Carol, when he spotted Magna for the first time all day. He knew he wouldn't be able to get through the weekend without seeing her, but he'd hoped it would be dinnertime before their paths crossed. No, instead, he made it to the makeshift storefront just as she was coming out of it.

He wasn't sure what to do, so he didn't do much of anything but continue past her to head inside. Magna, on the other hand, wasn't so keen to let things end up this way. He was ignoring her, and she didn't understand why.

"You said we could still be cordial," she declared, turning back in the doorway to face him. "But then you come out here last week and say nothing. Now your wife is here, and you act like you don't even see me. And I don't know how I'm supposed to play this. Do I just ignore you, too?"

"Yeah," he sighed, tiredly running his hand over his face. "That was the idea when I said we couldn't talk anymore."

"So we all sit down to dinner in a few hours, and I can't talk to you?" Her rigid expression crinkled into a frown. "Really?"

Rick shrugged. "Why not?"

"Wouldn't Michonne think it was strange if you and I suddenly didn't interact?"

"I don't think Michonne thinks about you at all, Magna."

"You're being mean because you think it'll make this easier," she asked, and it was clear that she was hoping that was the answer.

"I'm being honest, because I don't want things to get confused here." He glanced out of the store window, making sure no one was coming, and also took a few steps backward to keep the distance between them. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, I swear. But this can't go… anywhere."

"I don't know how you can just turn it off like that," she mumbled, shaking her head.

He narrowed his eyes, suddenly understanding that she was genuinely hurt about this. "Nothing happened," he reminded her, his tone gentler then.

"Well whatever didn't happen keeps replaying in my mind. I can't stop thinking about it." She knew it was silly, but that didn't stop her from feeling every bit of it. "My brain keeps telling me it was just… a kiss. Emotions were high, whatever. But everything else is reminding me that for a moment in time, you wanted me."

"I wanted _something_ ," he jumped in to correct her. He looked her in the eye, hoping she would hear him as he said it. It was a fine line he had to walk, being honest enough for her to take heed without being cruel enough to hurt her. "I felt disconnected, and I was reaching out blindly for anything. And in return, I gave away things I didn't have to give." He shook his head as it all replayed in his own mind again. "I just – I wanna put it back together."

She smirked at his explanation. How different, how much more confident he was now versus then. "So you're all better now, and I'm the one left with whatever pieces you don't need anymore."

"I imagine you've given this a lot of thought the past couple weeks," he posed, taking a look out of the window again. "What did you think was gonna happen here? Did you think I'd leave Michonne?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "No."

"I'm not in love with the drama of this, Magna. We've always gotten along well, and I wish it didn't have to be this way, but... it's my wife and my kids. They come first."

"I know," she nodded, looking down. She played with a loose thread at the end of her sweater sleeve, chuckling at how ridiculous she was being. "I guess I just wish we could still be friends."

He nodded, understanding where she was coming from – or at least trying to, but it had become increasingly clear that he would have to tell Michonne what happened. Because pretending it was nothing wasn't working for anyone, and was probably a fool's errand to begin with. Walking around on pins and needles, feeling guilty, feeling like he was in someone else's body half the time. And now, with Magna showing her cracks, he couldn't take the chance that she would tell Michonne first. No, it needed to come from him, as soon as they got back home.

"I'm sorry," he offered her genuinely. "I am."

"Me, too," she tried to smile at him, but it was more of a wince, she knew.

"Just… act normal," he appended, referring to their impending dinner. He moved to grab the milk he came for so that he could get out of there. "It'll be over soon."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Rhee house, Michonne and Maggie were enjoying the tiniest bit of free and alone time before the final push to get dinner on the table. The two ladies sat on Maggie's balcony, chatting and snacking on scraps of pie crust, while everyone inside probably wondered where they were. But they were the two that had done a large chunk of the work the night before, and so their secret moment of respite was well-deserved.

"It's cold out here," Maggie commented, frowning at the fact that Michonne had the forethought to put on her coat and she didn't.

"It's almost December," Michonne shot back wryly.

"I know. But it was nice yesterday," she recalled. "It reminded me of bein' back in Georgia. Sixty-five degree Thanksgivings and Christmases."

Just then, Glenn tentatively knocked on the terrace door to get the ladies' attention. He knew of Maggie's little hideout, but was careful not to give it away – to the kids, especially. "Hey," he greeted them in nearly a whisper.

Michonne glanced back while Maggie responded, "What's up?"

"Just letting you know the last batch of pies are going in the oven now."

"All right." She sighed tiredly, knowing that meant she would have to get up again. "Lizzie still needs a bath, so I'll be in in just a minute."

"Nope, I got it," he held up his hand, already backing away. "Just… enjoy your last few moments of peace."

Michonne had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, not at Glenn, but because she couldn't imagine a more accurate statement in that moment. So instead, she smiled at Maggie as he disappeared back into the house. "He's sweet."

Maggie was the one to roll her eyes as she turned back to the sprawling view ahead of them. "He's in the dog house is what that is."

She found that hard to believe, considering what a perfect husband Glenn had always been. "For what?"

"He agreed to go back out on the road," Maggie revealed, the irritation in her voice as apparent as her twang.

Michonne failed to see the problem, considering that was the bulk of what he did for two years - exploring other states for supplies, people, anything that would be of use to them. "And you're mad at him for that?"

"He didn't talk to me about it before he agreed," she clarified as she exhaled again. "Just came home Tuesday like, 'Hey, I'm leavin' for a month."

"Oh."

"I doubt I would've wanted him to go either way, but I dunno. I just figure, with two kids now, us runnin' this place, why would he even wanna do somethin' like that now?"

"Why do people do anything," Michonne sighed, her solemn stare fixated on the row of houses just below them.

Maggie gave her a questioning glance, and even frowned when she noticed the expression on her face. She looked angry and sad at the same time. "Why do you look like you should be holdin' your sword?"

"I dunno," she shook her head, trying to shake away her unrest. "Thinkin' too hard, I guess."

She chuckled when Michonne's brow line seemed to finally unfurl. "I always love when you drop your G's," she teased her. "Rick's rubbin' off on you."

"Jesus," Michonne scoffed as she felt her stomach drop at the mention of his name. "Maybe you are."

"I'll take that, too." She found herself grinning as she picked out another piece of pie crust to devour. "Seriously, why are we sittin' out here in the cold?"

"I thought you wanted to," Michonne shrugged.

"I thought _you_ wanted to."

The two of them began to giggle at themselves, and Michonne quickly realized that was the first time in weeks that she genuinely laughed. With someone over the age of six, anyway. And ironically, it sobered her, making her gaze at her friend wistfully. "I'm so glad I'm here, Maggie."

She immediately smiled back, glad she was there too, but she could tell that her friend was holding back something. That anger or sadness she'd seen a few seconds before, it wasn't going away. It had settled in her eyes, and it made Maggie worry. "You okay?"

Michonne inhaled sharply as she stared out at the horizon. She had Rick's phone in her hand, her thumb caressing the touch screen as she debated whether to tell Maggie what she'd just discovered. Or rather, didn't discover.

She'd grabbed it from his jacket while he was off being 'Rick Grimes' with everyone else. She knew he wouldn't particularly miss it, considering anyone that mattered was there at Hilltop. So she took it, feeling crazy, yet again, as she scrolled through his recent calls, finding that number that had haunted her a couple of weeks before. She knew it because she had studied it that night in her kitchen, wondering if it could possibly be an answer to any of her many questions. And now, it appeared on his missed call list four times in two days, with one short outgoing call. She wasn't sure what to think of that. On the face of it, that could be nothing. But what she _knew_? It was it was the number that came in when they were driving. At 10:07am. She stamped the time in her mind for precisely this reason.

She continued to his voicemails, recalling that another message had come in immediately after the call. Nothing there. In fact, most of his voicemails just had her name attached. There was one he still had from Valentine's Day the year before, where she did her best impression of Jill Scott singing "He Loves Me." He also had a random one she'd left just a week ago, where she'd started to ask him about socks, and decided to text him instead. It wasn't even a real message, but it was still there. No voicemail from 10:07, though. Or 10:08. Or 10:09. Nothing from that morning, in fact.

So her detective work sent her to investigate his texts, looking for anything in that time frame. Scrolling through each thread individually to check time stamps. Nothing from that number; nothing from that time. Whatever it was had obviously been deleted. And given that Rick was someone who kept two-year-old voicemails, she could only think of one reason why he'd delete one random text from one random number.

Finally, she looked back to Maggie, knowing she'd just asked if she was okay. But in that moment, she might as well have been speaking to her in Russian, because she couldn't even comprehend the question. Eventually, she just shook her head, because even when her head stopped spinning, she couldn't imagine she would be.

* * *

_What's worse? Looking jealous or crazy, jealous and crazy?_  
_Or like, being walked all over lately, walked all over lately  
_ _I'd rather be crazy_


	6. Beautiful Man, I Know You're Lying

Thanksgiving dinner at Hilltop had just gotten underway, and for Rick and Michonne, it was another exercise in pretending things were normal when everything was crumbling around them. For Michonne, especially, as she sat at the table between her two kids, dressed to the nines in a plum-colored dress and chestnut heels, both of which, Rick had found for her. Back when things were good. He was sitting just a few feet from her, on the other side of Judith, but he felt so far away. She felt so displaced, even amid her immediate family.

Her husband was more than likely cheating on her, and now, she couldn't even form a coherent thought, because none of it made any sense. Why would he do that? Who would he do that with? And when? How? Had he been fucking some other woman for months, or was it a one-time thing? Did she end it? Is that why he had become so aloof so suddenly? Probably not, if she was the one contacting him incessantly. Maybe it wasn't a woman. Maybe he was realizing things about himself that never occurred to him before. That was more believable than him stepping out of their seemingly happy marriage for some pussy. She had so many questions, but she was terrified to find out the answers. She didn't want to confirm her worst fears. For now, they could still be reasonably explained away if she could sit him down and tell him what she knew. But she wasn't sure what she would do if she could no longer hide under the guise of uncertainty. The past two weeks of seesawing between doubt and denial would morph into something. Anger? Heartbreak? The end of her marriage? She didn't know, and wasn't ready to find out. So she sat at that table, mostly silent as she tried not to think about it; smiling through the fact that she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Rick was feeling equally uneasy as he sat there waiting for dinner to be served. His eyes kept studying the crowded room, wondering why Magna hadn't shown up yet. Was she plotting something? Or simply not up to faking her way through it? The latter was more likely, but he couldn't stop worrying about the possibility of the former. His only real experience with lying was when the group first arrived to Alexandria, and he was hiding his plans from the majority of their people. Michonne, in particular. It made him so crazy back then, he swore he would never do it again, yet here he was, sweating his way through distracted interactions, while the distance between himself and his wife was filled literally and figuratively by Judith. He strongly considered taking Michonne upstairs just to tell her then, but decided against it, thinking he would only be doing that to make himself feel better, all while ruining her Thanksgiving. But then, it would be ruined anyway when he told the truth later. What was the difference? He didn't know. He couldn't tell anything anymore. Nothing made sense. And really, he would've given anything in that moment to just disappear.

"I'm so hungry," Carl commented, making sure to rub his stomach to highlight the point. "I didn't eat anything at all today."

Michonne glanced at him, a bit oblivious to what he'd said, but thankful that he'd managed to interrupt her stream of consciousness. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I'm hungry," he repeated a bit louder, as the room was full of chatter. "Starving."

"Have you eaten today?" she wondered, knowing how he could be. He was like his father when it came to food.

He chuckled at the fact that she obviously hadn't heard a word he said. "Just coffee this morning."

"That's not food," she gently scolded him, knocking his shoulder with hers. "Your dad said you gained weight, but I think it's all in your hair."

"I did put on a few pounds," he defended, smiling bashfully. "I dunno why it took me so long, but I've really been into bacon lately."

"Oh my god," Enid jumped into the conversation from beside Carl. "Enough with the bacon already."

"She gets mad because I put it on everything."

"Literally everything," she explained to Michonne. "The other night, he cut it into these tiny pieces and mixed it in his spaghetti."

"I don't really see the problem," he maintained, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "It makes _everything_ better."

_If only that were true_ , Michonne thought to herself. But she still found herself smiling at the couple, enjoying that this was all they had to argue about. She hoped it would stay that way for them. "I'm surprised you don't have any sitting in front of your plate now."

"Oh, I considered it. But since I didn't have enough to share, I decided to forgo it tonight."

"Oh, how thoughtful of you," she playfully rolled her eyes.

"He only 'decided' because I told him to drop it on our way out the door," Enid submitted, her expression matching Michonne's.

"That's not…" Carl started to object, but then thought better of it as he recalled their exchange before leaving. "Okay, yeah, that's what happened. But I still could've taken it if I really wanted to."

"Yeah, you keep thinking that."

"You two," Michonne grinned again, shaking her head. "You're like an old married couple already."

"Uh oh, don't bring up the marriage word around her," he joked in return. "She all of a sudden forgets how to speak in complete sentences when that comes up."

"No, I'm pretty sure 'Shut up' is a complete sentence," Enid quipped. She then looked to her potentially-future-mother-in-law for advice on the subject. "You shouldn't get married if you're not sure about it, right?"

Michonne nodded, almost impressed with her self-awareness at such a young age. But with the mood she was in, she wasn't even sure she'd recommend getting married if they were sure about it. "That would be the advice I would give, yes."

"She's sure," Carl scoffed, his eye catching his dad's as he seemed to be forcing himself through a conversation with Morgan. "Who else is she gonna be with?"

"You never know," she chuckled. "Some other handsome man could come along and sweep her off her feet. Nothing wrong with keeping her options open."

Carl cut his eyes in Michonne's direction, knowing she was teasing him. He was well aware she'd probably burn a city to the ground if Enid ever hurt him. "All right, Mom."

She smiled again, feeling soothed by sitting there with Carl. Something about him calling her 'Mom' made her feel at ease in that moment, in particular. Perhaps because it cemented her place in his and Judith's lives, no matter what the hell was going on with Rick. That was a worry that always laid dormant in the back of her mind, even when she and Rick first got together. _If this doesn't work out, what happens to my relationship with Carl?_ It went away, of course, once she and Rick exchanged vows. Judith began to know her as her mother, so Carl started calling her that, too, even though the sentiment had been there for a while. She got to stop thinking that it wouldn't work out. But somehow, five years later, she was questioning that very thing, in a very real way. So it was a nice reminder that at least she wouldn't lose her kids in whatever mess waited on the other side of this weekend.

Luckily, before her thoughts could go any further down the rabbit hole, Maggie and Glenn appeared in the dining room, wheeling in the centerpiece to their meal. The room erupted into applause, everyone obviously desperate to finally eat. "I'm so sorry, y'all," the hostess declared, shaking her head at the mini-disaster. "The turkey took just a little bit longer than we calculated."

"It's a big ass turkey," Glenn submitted in their defense as their guests laughed.

"If anything else is cold, please feel free to use the microwave," she added, even if she hated the idea of nearly a hundred people crowding into her kitchen. They'd done so much work to avoid that very thing. "We're gonna start carvin' it up and servin' at this end of the table, so please dig in."

And dig in, they did, everyone in the room beginning to pile food onto their plates - potatoes, mashed and sweet, green beans, kale, dressing, macaroni and cheese, lobster tails, and fried chicken. It was a veritable feast, complete with everything anyone could ask for. Everything but drinks, it seemed.

"Hey Maggie, you got any alcohol to go with this spread?" Abraham asked for everyone that was thinking it.

"Shit." She glanced down the long table, realizing that nobody had anything in their cups. "I do," she promised. "Just gimme a minute." As if on cue, Magna came into the room toting pitchers of lemonade and iced tea, and Maggie sighed in relief as she hurried over to her friend. "Could you do me a giant favor and start gettin' drink orders?" she practically begged. "I'll help make 'em just as soon as I'm done helpin' Glenn."

Magna swallowed hard as she glanced at Rick's section of the table, knowing she would have to interact with him in just a few short minutes if she agreed. But as he'd said earlier, it would all be over soon, so long as she didn't act weird about it. "Sure," she smiled, albeit a bit tensely. "I'll grab some paper."

"You're a lifesaver," Maggie exhaled again. "I owe you."

"Please don't mention it," she returned, disappearing just as quickly as she'd appeared.

Meanwhile, Michonne and Rick were so busy passing giant dishes of food back and forth, filling Judith's plate with everything she claimed to want, but probably wouldn't eat, the two of them hadn't really noticed the other goings-on in the room. So they were both startled for entirely different reasons when a few minutes had passed and Magna was standing in front of them with a pen and pad in her hand.

Michonne gazed up at her, offering a polite smile, knowing she hadn't seen the woman in months, but was confused as to why she was towering over her now. "Hey."

Her breath nearly caught in her throat, being there in front of Michonne, smiling at her the way a friendly neighbor would. It only made Magna feel that much worse, and her eyes instantly flitted down to the page, unable to look her in the eye. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Oh. Just water is fine," she answered, pushing a pan of rolls toward Carl before gesturing to Judith. "And this one will have some apple juice."

"Mommy," Judith cut in to object, "can I have some ice tea?"

Michonne glanced at Rick to see if he had any protests to Judith having caffeine, but he was more concerned with the turkey cart a few spots away, so she relented for both of them. "You can have a little," she agreed, looking up to Magna. "Just half a cup."

"Got it," she nodded, taking a short deep breath before moving down the table to Rick. She could feel her nervousness eating away at her, having to interact with him in front of his wife and pretend everything was normal. But she didn't have much of a choice, so she shook it off as best she could, sending a small smile his way as she approached. "How 'bout you, Grimes? An Old Fashioned tonight?"

Michonne felt like she heard a record scratch as the question came out of Magna's mouth. She wished she could press rewind on the moment so she could study it further. It was a fairly innocuous interaction that probably wouldn't have caught her eye or ear otherwise, but given everything that was going on with Rick, it felt as though a searing hot white light had been shed on the situation. It was strange enough that Rick would barely even look at this person she knew he was pretty good friends with. And maybe it wasn't so odd that this woman knew his favorite drink off the top of her head, but that didn't sit well with her either. But then she remembered the night he started acting so fucking weird in the first place, and that taste on his lips when she kissed him. She couldn't place it then, but she sure as hell could now. That drink. The orange, the brandy. The guilt.

She went into an immediate fog as all the pieces of the shitty puzzle came together, and she literally felt sick to her stomach. She turned to Carl, because she couldn't look at Rick, swallowing actual vomit back down her throat as she pulled back from her chair. "I'm not feeling well," she told him, and she was gone before he could look up.

* * *

It wasn't very long before Rick had come after Michonne, though he wasn't entirely sure that he should. Both Carl and Maggie were under the impression that her ailment was physical, but he had a sinking feeling that wasn't the case. Even if she was in the bathroom throwing up at that particular moment. He didn't know what she'd figured out, or how, but he knew her well enough to know the jig was up.

"Michonne?" He knocked gently at the locked door for the third time, still waiting for an answer.

"I'm fine," she finally said flatly. She turned to rest her back against the commode, waiting for the tears that would inevitably come. She just wanted to get it over with so she could go back downstairs and pretend none of this was happening. But they seemed to be refusing her in that moment, so she just sat there on the cold, hard bathroom floor, stoic as ever as she listened to Rick knock every thirty seconds or so, begging her to respond. The same way she begged him to know what was going on. He could keep waiting, as far as she was concerned.

"Can you let me in," he said, his voice sounding utterly weak.

"No."

"Michonne…"

"Go back downstairs," she answered. "I don't wanna look at you."

"Can we talk?"

She gave a derisive chuckle at the fact that he was asking this now, after days and days of his galling silence. "Now you wanna talk," she mumbled. "No."

He blinked back his own tears as he looked up at the ceiling, at a loss as to what he was going to do. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Michonne carefully pulled herself up from the floor, wrestling with whether to open that door and face him, and unsure of whether she even could. Her mind kept picturing images of him with someone else – with Magna? - and it was all she could do not to run back to the toilet again. "We'll leave in the morning," she said from behind the door. "We'll discuss it then."

"I don't know if we should wait-."

"You don't get to do this to me in front of all these people. Not after you've waited this long," she cut him off tersely. Angrily. "We'll discuss it tomorrow."

Rick nodded, although she couldn't see him, understanding that he was at her mercy on this one. He would have to do whatever she wanted. "All right."

She moved to the sink to brush her teeth, still trying to sort through all the thoughts running amuck in her head. This was exactly why she'd been so reluctant to confirm her fears. It was why she came down to dinner without saying anything, despite what she'd seen in his phone. Despite having the evidence literally in her hand. But now, she _knew_. There was no way to pretend that this could still be something else; living on hope that her husband was just depressed, because somehow, that was the better option. No, all the evidence pointed to an affair, and she couldn't unsee it. This man - her heart and her home - with someone else. With Magna. She thought of all the times Rick had been at this place, under the pretense of seeing their son, probably with her instead. All the times she'd eyed his interactions with her, thinking this woman was just a little bit too comfortable with him. But she closed her mouth and even her eyes, because Rick was hers, and she never had any reason to question it. So she thought.

"I don't want to see you the rest of the night," she announced, knowing he was still standing there. She figured he would stay there all night if she didn't say otherwise. "I don't care where you go. Go sleep in the car, but don't come back to this bedroom."

He began to reply with something in protest, but stopped himself. Instead, he rested his hand on one of the door panels as if it were his wife's face, as he was desperate to see it, to touch her and know that she was still there, with him. Even though reality told him that she might not be after this. "I don't think you should be alone."

Michonne immediately thought of how she'd been alone for weeks now, and she scoffed. "I'll be fine." She closed her eyes and waited several minutes until she heard the sound of his footsteps, letting out a deep exhale as they trailed off to another part of the house. Still feeling sick to her stomach, she grabbed her heels from the floor and opened the door to their guest bedroom. Normally, it was a place where she didn't feel like a guest, as she'd been to Maggie's house and stayed in that room plenty of times before, but in that moment, it felt like she was in some foreign country, with her purse stolen, and all she wanted to do was find a way to get home.

With another sigh, she threw her shoes to a corner, and climbed into bed in her dress and her stockings, too tired, too angry, too everything to take them off. And so she just laid there in the dark, listening to the sounds of laughter from downstairs. Just a few short months ago, she was at the center of that laughter. She was happy. And she wasn't sure what happened, why joy had suddenly become so elusive, but… at least she'd gotten her wish to disappear.

Before long, the pitter-patter of tiny feet invaded what little peace Michonne had found in the quiet of the room. She didn't mind, because she knew it was Judith; she only wished she could protect her from her own sadness. She was too intuitive a child not to see something was wrong, and unlike her father, Michonne wouldn't be able to hide it. But she tried to anyway, covering her face with her arm as the bedroom door creaked open.

Judith tentatively stepped into the room, her inquisitive eyes taking in the scene of her mother lying in bed fully dressed. Her brother had said she was sick, which only served to worry her more. She approached the bed, but didn't get too close, because what she knew about sickness was that it was contagious. "Are you okay, Mommy?"

Underneath her arm, Michonne found herself grimacing at the question. People kept asking that, and she was tired of lying to them, but then she couldn't exactly say otherwise. That invited a conversation that she simply wasn't ready to have. "I'm fine, sweetie," she said, removing her arm so that she could see her daughter. "I'm just not feeling very well."

"Do you want some medicine?" she asked, moving closer still, so she could see her mother's face. She reached out to feel her forehead and her cheeks, the way her parents did whenever she was sick. "You are burning up."

Michonne laughed, knowing Judith was simply imitating her. She wanted to be in the mood to engage her more. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Seeing you made me feel a little better."

Judith smiled at the news, still holding Michonne's face. "I love you so much, Mommy."

She smiled again, mostly to hold back her tears in this case. Judith said something similar nearly every day, but with everything else going on, and the uncertainty surrounding her marriage, it was something she needed to hear then. She moved back in the bed a few inches, and patted the open spot for Judy to take. Silently, she climbed on up and nestled into her mother's arms, both of them feeling comforted as Michonne gently stroked her hair. "I love you, too," she told her. "More than anything."

"More than chocolate?" Judith asked, tilting her head upward to try and see her face.

"Way more than chocolate."

"More than Daddy?"

"More than _anything_ ," Michonne repeated. "Don't you ever forget that, okay?"

"Okay."

Michonne gazed down at her, hoping that she really did understand what she was saying. Hoping that she wouldn't forget that if their family actually fell apart the way it already had in her mind. "How would you feel about staying here with Carl for a couple of days?"

Judith gasped at the very idea. "Can I?"

"If you want to," she smirked at her obvious excitement. "Your dad and I are gonna leave in the morning, but you can stay through the weekend with Carl and Aunt Maggie."

"And Hershel, and Enid, and Uncle Glenn," she listed them giddily. "And we have so much food to eat. You missed it."

She was just relieved to know that Judith would be okay away from home. She would be happy there for a few days, at least. While her parents were off being the opposite.

Judith quickly realized that her mother hadn't replied, probably because she was too sick to say anything else. She was disturbing her. "Mommy, you should go to sleep if you're not feeling good," she advised. "I won't talk anymore."

"Thank you, sweetie." And with that, Michonne wrapped her arm around her baby just a little bit tighter, inhaling her scent of shampoo and sweet potatoes, and she found solace in lying there in the silence with her. She felt safe from whatever was waiting for her tomorrow. And eventually, she even found sleep.

* * *

The following morning, the Grimes family was up with the sun - Rick preparing for the trip back home, while Michonne and Judith were at the other end of the settlement, waiting on Carl's doorstep for him or Enid to answer. Judith happily swung her mother's hand back and forth, unable to stand still as she anticipated hanging out with her big brother for an extended amount of time, the way they did before he moved away. Luckily, it wasn't long before he groggily swung the door open, greeting them with a half smile, half yawn.

"Hey."

"Good morning," Michonne offered her own weak smile, playfully tugging on his shoulder-length locks as she stepped into his apartment.

"Hi, Carl!" Judith waved at him, and her voice was loud enough to wake the entire community.

"Hey, Jude," he grinned wider as he took in her cheerfulness. She was already handing him her bag and coat before he could close the door. "Where's Dad?" he asked Michonne.

"Getting ready to go," she answered simply. The two of them watched Judith run further into the apartment, presumably off to find Enid. "I hope you two are prepared for a lot of energy over the next couple days."

"It'll be fun," he shrugged. "I miss her all the time. All three of you, really."

Michonne cocked her head to the side, wondering if she could possibly be hearing him correctly. "There's no rule that says you can't come back home, you know."

"No, I know. But I just… I think it's better for me here."

She held up her hands in surrender, knowing they'd had this conversation more than once before. He didn't want to just be known as 'Rick and Michonne's kid', so he made the decision to go off on his own, finding his place in the new world like everyone else. And she had learned to respect that; admired it, even. But that didn't stop her from missing him constantly. "Well at least come and visit me more often. Alexandria isn't the same without you."

"You're the one that doesn't visit me," he countered. "Every time Dad comes out here, I hope you're with him."

"You're sweet," she grinned genuinely. She reached up to cup his face, her thumb brushing the facial hair on his cheek as she fought another set of tears from surfacing. Staring into those blue eyes, identical to his father's, she couldn't help but be reminded of a simpler time, the four of them happy, together. Now, they were tearing at the seams, and she couldn't stop it. "Just don't be a stranger," she croaked out, feeling like she was pleading with him.

Carl nodded, but it was hard to pretend that there wasn't obviously something else wrong there. Between the way she'd hurried from dinner, and now his parents rushing home, coupled with the look on her face, he was concerned, to say the least. "Hey, is everything okay?"

"Not really." She chuckled lightly as the words came out of her mouth, realizing that she was a bit more comfortable with admitting it than she was the day before. She played it off with Maggie as being sick, but she was being honest now. And it was a strange thing to confess – to be able to say, 'No, I'm not okay,' when all she'd done for months now was say otherwise. It was terrifying, but also freeing. The pressure to be perfect was gone; the cloak lifted. "I have some things I need to work through, and so does your dad. And I'm just… not looking forward to it."

"Is it about the baby?" Carl wondered, making sure to keep his voice low.

Michonne instinctively frowned at the question, thinking Rick might have shared what she'd said about the miscarriage with Carl. Even though he had every right to, it felt strange to have someone else in on that secret. Even their kid. "It's a lot of things," she answered, being intentionally vague. The last thing she wanted was to tarnish Carl's image of his father. Not yet, anyway. "You can bring her home Sunday afternoon?"

"Sure." He offered a solemn smile in reply, and he moved in to hug her before she could go. "You guys love each other," he said over the top of her head. "So whatever happens, I know it'll be all right."

She nodded against his embrace, appreciating the way he always spoke with the wisdom of someone that had been around, had seen everything. And in some ways, he had. But so had she, and she was all too clear that infidelity was something a couple rarely came back from. It was hard to imagine a scenario where things turned out all right. Nonetheless, she inhaled Carl's confidence to take with her, just as she noticed Rick pull up to the apartment. Even from far away, he looked about as sick as she felt. With another deep breath, she turned for the door, but not before giving Carl's hand one last squeeze. "Don't let anything happen to my kid," she said, not wanting to leave on a somber note.

"She's in good hands," he assured her as he pulled open the door for her. "Don't let anything happen to my dad," he added jokingly.

Michonne purposely didn't reply, as that was a promise she knew she probably couldn't keep. "I'll see you Sunday," she finished, already headed for the car. And she couldn't help but glare at Rick as her boots pounded against the dirt, sounding like an angry drum in her march toward him. She realized her hands were balled into fists too, and she wasn't sure whether it was because she was cold, or angry, or nervous. Perhaps a mixture of the three. But either way, with nowhere left for either of them to hide, this was going to be one long, difficult ride home.


	7. You Gon' Lose Your Wife

 

 _Who the fuck do you think I is?_  
_You ain't married to no average bitch, boy_  
_You can watch my fat ass twist, boy  
_ _As I bounce to the next dick, boy_

"I don't know if you realize this," Michonne began to speak quietly. Her tone was almost alarmingly composed, while her icy gaze stared intently out of the front window of the car. "Maybe you've been too busy feeling yourself for the past few years to remember. Or maybe you never saw it in the first place. But I _chose_ you, Rick. Actively and consciously, I made the decision to be with you." She could feel him looking over at her, likely wanting to say something in his own defense, but she ignored it in order to speak her piece first. "And maybe I couldn't control the fact that I've been in love with you since you bit out a man's throat to save your kid, but that didn't take away my agency in the matter. I didn't _fall_ in love, like it was some accidental occurrence. I rose in it. I chose it. I sat on that couch, cognizant of what I was doing in taking this leap with you. Deanna Monroe told me to figure out what I wanted for my life, and it turned out, it was you. I stood in front of God and Gabriel, and everyone we knew, and I let it be known that _you_ were what I wanted for my whole life." She let out a soft sigh, trying not to mentally crack as she recalled those happy moments. "So you can imagine my surprise when I wake up one day, and the man that I chose, the man that supposedly chose me back, has decided to want someone else. Some woman he's known half as long, and hasn't done half as much for him as I have, has somehow come along and taken half of what's mine. Imagine the gut-wrenching pain that comes with knowing that this man you've given everything to, when you didn't really have to, has disrespected the shit out of you; has abandoned you without warning or cause." She turned to him, finally, seeing that the expression on his face was unchanged since they'd left Hilltop a few minutes before. "Can you imagine a thing like that?" She didn't wait for his answer, knowing that he wouldn't have one. Not one that she wanted to hear, anyway. "You look like you wanna throw up."

Rick's sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel even tighter, his mind and his body struggling to stay focused on driving under Michonne's questioning glare. He did want to throw up. But more than that, he just wanted to get it all over with. The worst part, the part he'd been dreading the most, was already over – she knew. Now, it was time to rip off the rest of the band-aid. "I just wanna talk this out," he murmured.

"Oh, I bet you do," she sneered. "I'm sure you think you can talk through whatever could've been going through that fucked up head of yours at the time, and fix this with your words somehow. But I can't imagine a scenario where your excuses will work this time."

He flinched at her choice of words, feeling like he'd been attacked. At the back of his mind, Rick had been relieved that Michonne didn't have her sword along for this ride home, given how upset he knew she'd be. Of course, he didn't take into account that words could cut just as deeply, if not worse. But they were two people with a history of emotional and mental instability, and that wasn't something he ever thought she'd throw in his face. "You're hitting below the belt."

"You're lucky I haven't literally hit you below the belt," she shot back. "But if you wanna talk, go ahead. Explain how you could do this to me."

"I can't explain it away," he was quick to admit. He wanted her to know that he understood that. There was no excuse. "It was a mistake, and I wish I could take it back. It was a one-time thing that went too far, but I didn't have sex with her."

Michonne stared at the side of his face, her stomach doing backflips as her mind tried to decipher whether he was telling the truth. She hated that she couldn't tell anymore. How often was that the response from some man after he's caught? And after all the lies and the silence, how was she supposed to believe this man, in particular? The fact that she couldn't tell only frustrated her more. "Then what happened?" she demanded.

"It was a kiss. We were talking, we said too much, and then it turned into the two of us kissing on her couch." He glanced over at her as he chewed at his bottom lip, trying to gauge her reaction, but was unable to glean anything from her stoic expression. "I started it," he added in the interest of full disclosure. "But I stopped it."

"You stopped it," she chuckled, her tone dripping in sarcasm. "Because you're so honorable."

"Because you're my wife, and I love you."

"Fuck you," she rolled her eyes. She turned to face him again, searching for some sign of whether this was real, or just another lie on top of all the others. A twitch, a quirk, a something. But she only got more nothing, which just made her angrier as she thought about what a mess this was. She couldn't even look at her husband, much less believe this innocent spin he was trying to put on his sins. He had ruined everything. Michonne was generally a calm, patient woman, in control of her emotions more often than not. But he had her so frustrated, so irate, that anger turned into rage, and suddenly, her right fist was headed straight for Rick, connecting with his shoulder in a loud thwack that startled both of them. She hit him so hard, the car swerved, and she immediately recoiled, burying her face in her hands.

Rick winced at the pain, but knew that was the least he deserved after everything he'd done. In fact, he wished she would hit him again if that's what would make her feel any better. "Are you—."

"I'm sorry," she cut him off to say. She hated that this had reduced her to violence. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," she shook her head. "Because I really wanted to punch you in the face, and the only reason I stopped myself is because I don't wanna die in this car," she confessed. "I wanna put you through that window for what you've done."

"I'm sorry," he offered, knowing it wouldn't mean much.

"I can't do shit with you being sorry."

 _And keep your money, I got my own  
_ _Keep a bigger smile on my face being alone_

"I wanna fix this," he implored. "We can come back from this."

" _We_ can come back? I didn't go anywhere!"

Rick looked at her, knowing she was the one who wasn't being honest now. "We haven't been us for a long time now, Michonne."

"Yeah, because you're a fucking liar."

"All right."

"Don't you dare try and get indignant with me now."

"I'm not… " He let out a small sigh, obviously frustrated by the conversation as well. There wasn't much he could say that wouldn't make this worse, but it was becoming impossible to say _anything_. "I fucked up. I'm not gonna pretend I didn't. But I'm not a liar. I'm still the person you married."

"And yet you lied," she was quick to remind him. "And the person I married wouldn't let me go around looking like an idiot for weeks, wondering if I was crazy when he was the one that fucked up. The person I married, whose first wife and best friend nearly killed him when he found out they were fucking, wouldn't turn around and do something like this. So how could you be the same person I married? How do you square that away, Rick?"

"I made a mistake," he whispered, having no other way to explain it.

She shook her head at his lame excuse for an answer, her eyes landing on the gold band that adorned her left ring finger. "Yeah, maybe I made one, too."

"Please don't say that."

"If it was just a kiss, why didn't you just tell me?" she asked, ignoring his plea. "If that's all it was, why would you let it snowball into this?"

"I don't know. I was scared of what it meant for us," he said. "I've never slipped like that before."

"I had to be the one you experimented on." She sighed, feeling so lost. "Is it because you think I'll stay with you, no matter what? 'No matter how shitty I treat Michonne, she's always by my side.'"

 _Bad motherfucker, god complex_  
_Motivate your ass, call me Malcolm X  
_ _Your operator, your innovator_

Rick glared at her then, more offended by that than anything else she'd said. The implication that he'd treated her badly in their time together… "Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, you roll those pretty blue eyes," she mocked him, her own eyes narrowed on him. "You know… I turned the other way when we first came to Virginia, and you lost your goddamn mind over Jenny or Jessie or whatever her name was. It wasn't my place back then, even if you were making yourself look like a fucking idiot. But I thought you were just emotionally traumatized, and acting out in ways I wasn't supposed to necessarily understand." She shook her head, recalling how she had to actually knock the sense into him back then. "But maybe this is just who you are. Maybe you prefer the company of mediocre white women that like to stroke your fragile ego. …And whatever else." She stared at him, almost enjoying the aggravated look on his face. "Five years with me, and that's still what does it for you, huh?"

 _Fuck you hater, you can't recreate her, no_  
_You'll never recreate her, no_

His only response was silence and him visibly swallowing back down his nerves as she laid into him. The only thing he could do was let her.

"I wanna scream at you for ruining this. You've eroded my trust so much that I literally don't know what to believe, and that just makes me even angrier. I feel even crazier, and I didn't think that was possible after the last two weeks I've had."

Rick took that opportunity to stop the car, because he felt like he needed to look her in the eye for this. To be able to tell her, reassure her, that he was truly being honest with her, finally. "Michonne," he called her name in a pitiful hoarse whisper. He turned his entire body toward her, hoping she would do the same. She did, eventually, and their eyes locked, blue melding with brown as he pled with her. "It was just a kiss," he promised as earnestly as he knew how. "It was a full-on kiss, I don't know how long it was, but it felt fast. It wasn't like… us, where time seems to stop. It was strange, I was thinking of you, even though I knew I wasn't with you, but I let myself go anyway. I dunno. She ended up on top of me, and I could feel myself getting… excited, and that's when I slowly realized what I was actually doing. She had unbuckled my belt, but that's as far as it went. I swear on our children, that's as far as it went."

The mere thought of Magna on top of him in that way made her queasy. Thinking of the hundreds of times she'd been there herself, and now he'd allowed some other woman that experience. Her mind didn't stop there, though, because it had gone past that so many times now. Images of that woman sucking his dick, him gripping the back of her hair while they fucked on her ugly orange sofa. Even if that wasn't what happened, in her head, it had. And now, there was no way for her to _know_. She turned away from him, shaking her head. "You should get out," she mumbled.

His gaze had drifted to her hand, her wedding ring, in particular, but he looked up from it upon hearing her command. "What?"

"I don't want to ride home with you anymore," she clarified, her tone clipped. "Get out of the car."

"Michonne…"

"You can walk home."

Rick looked out of the window at their whereabouts, even though he knew they were still nearly twenty miles from home. "It's thirty fuckin' degrees out there."

"Well call your girlfriend to come get you," she suggested coldly. "Or you're welcome to call your son if you feel like explaining to him why I left you on the side of the road. But I'm not going any further with you in this car." Michonne was quick to hop out of their Lexus, making her way from the passenger's side to the driver's, while Rick sat there stupefied, staring out of the front window. Finally, he looked about as pissed as she felt. When he didn't move quickly enough, she knocked harshly on his door.

His jaw was clenched tightly as he finally opened the door and stepped out of the warm SUV into the biting cold. "What is this gonna solve?" he asked, peering at her, and then past her, to the empty road. Not another car in sight.

"Nothing," she was fine with admitting. And with that, she hopped in, slammed the door shut, and drove off.

 _We just gotta let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be baby  
_ _You just gotta let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be baby_

* * *

Michonne's silent drive home felt like the longest twenty miles of her life. And she was someone who'd walked twice that distance in the cold before, back when walkers were everywhere. But this particular trek, where she didn't have to worry about her safety, the only thing on her mind was her ire. She wanted so badly to hurt something – to hurt Rick – the way she'd been hurt. In the end, it was really for his own safety that she kicked him out of the car.

When she walked into her empty house, she felt a sense of relief to be somewhere that she felt comfortable again. Something about being away from home in times of crisis always seemed to make things just a little bit worse. But then it quickly dawned on her that this space was no longer the haven it once was either. Her place of respite had been tainted by the betrayal that lived there now, too. The man she'd made a home out of was suddenly a stranger to her. Unable to believe this person she'd put unwavering faith into, it was scary. She wasn't afraid of much, but she was deathly afraid of what this meant for her marriage going forward.

 _When you hurt me, you hurt yourself_  
_Don't hurt yourself_  
_When you diss me, you diss yourself  
_ _Don't hurt yourself_

Still draped in her coat, Michonne headed for the living room, and more specifically, the bar, as had become her habit as of late. What started as a casual thing to do with her husband at the end of the work day every now and then had turned into part of her routine. She found that the liquor helped to quiet all the noise in her head, which allowed her sleep. She never slept quite as well without it, she was learning. And that had been especially true over the past couple of weeks. But then, that didn't explain why she was going to that well now, at 10:00 in the morning.

"A new low," she chuckled sadly to herself, opting for some red wine in favor of hard liquor. It was some awful concoction that their friend Genevieve had fermented, but it would do for the moment, she figured.

With her glass in hand, she found herself roaming around the house as if she were on a tour of it, like some random guest, visiting for the first time. Gazing at the pictures of her family, taking note of the various smiles on their faces in all of them. _So happy and stupid_ , she thought. She walked through the kitchen, examining the cabinets and counters, the only thing out of place being the clean dishes from the kids' breakfast the morning before. She continued to Carl's old room - originally her room, back before she and Rick got together. Michonne smiled to herself, remembering when Carl decided to move downstairs, and she was so annoyed by it. She knew it was only a matter of time before he'd be out of the house completely. But she was glad he'd left his room the same, all his posters and trinkets in place. She ran her fingers over his old sheriff's hat, sitting on top of his dresser. After a few more seconds of reminiscing, she closed the door and headed on out, circling back to the staircase. For the first time in a long time, she noticed her katana up on the mantle, where she'd put it nearly two years ago, and rarely had reason to take it back down. She wanted to now, though. She was so tempted to sit on the steps with it in her lap, just waiting for Rick to walk in the door.

Instead, though, she went up those stairs, slowly meandering into Judith's vibrant room first. She loved its colorful pallette of blues and pinks and purples and greens. She and Rick had painted it themselves, a mural of these giant, vivid flowers. Sometimes, Michonne would just get lost in the art of it all, reveling in what they'd created. Today, she didn't though, her eyes quickly scanning the rest of the room to make sure everything was in place. Books, toys, clothes, all in order.

She took another gulp of wine, and left that room too, headed for her own. This place where she'd rested her head for so many years. Where she'd shared everything with Rick. Their dressers, their closet, their bed. The things they'd done to one another in that bed. The things they'd said. That room was the core of where they shared their lives together. It wasn't a wonder why it always felt so cold lately.

She still didn't take off her coat as she wandered into that closet, staring around at all their clothes. All the beautiful suits and dresses they rarely got a chance to wear. She laughed to herself as she thought of what Rick's life would look like without her. She'd created this beautiful existence for him, for them, and he didn't even care. All this work she'd done, and it felt like she was watching it circle down the drain.

 _When you hurt me, you hurt yourself_  
_Don't hurt yourself_  
_When you love me, you love yourself  
_ _Love god herself_

Before she knew it, Michonne was flipping through all those suits, searching for something she knew she wouldn't find – a clue as to whether he was telling the truth. She didn't see how it was possible, all of this over just a kiss. So she sniffed his jackets, looking for a scent that didn't belong to him or her. Searching the pockets for something of the same nature. She moved on to the dresser, too, rummaging through all his casual clothes, the things he wore daily, digging for evidence of some long stringy hair, a part of an earring, a condom. She was pretty sure all the condoms had expired, but she still looked for one. She even went through the hamper in the corner, combing through his dirty clothes as well, examining them for cum stains or lipstick. Magna didn't even wear lipstick, but she was desperate. She searched through all of it once, and then did it again, pulling his clothes to the floors and the bed. Poring over every detail of his things until she couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't figure out how she had finally uncovered his secret, and she was still on this ridiculous quest for the truth.

* * *

It was dark outside by the time Rick had found his way home. Michonne could hear some car pull up outside before the front door opened, so he must have found one along the way, as she figured he would. How could she know him so well in so many ways, but not at all in others? She stared around their messy bedroom, all of his clothes strewn everywhere, and it only highlighted that fact. And she was losing her mind because of it.

It wasn't long before she heard his footsteps trudging up the steps, and she took a deep breath, readying herself for part two of this unending battle.

 _I am the dragon breathing fire_  
_Beautiful mane, I'm the lion_  
_Beautiful man, I know you're lying  
_ _I am not broken, I'm not crying, I'm not crying_

The bedroom door swung open, and Rick stood in the threshold, staring back at his wife fixedly. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he'd done a thirteen-mile walk of shame in the freezing cold before he could find a car that he could hotwire. So a little bit of anger had crept in with all his contrition. But more than that, he wondered if she was feeling any different. She didn't look much different. She looked worse, really. She had on her robe, her hair in this haphazard, loose ponytail, sitting amongst a mess. Another of those cocktails she seemed to enjoy so much was perched on the nightstand beside her.

"You kickin' me out of the house?" he wondered, noting that all of the clothes on the bed were his.

"You'd like that, I'm sure," she returned tersely. "Make me the bad guy."

"You know that's not true."

"I don't know what's true, Rick," she said, her voice so low she wasn't even sure she was speaking out loud. "I suppose I have to believe you when you say that it was just a kiss, even though that doesn't really make sense to me." She watched him walk across the room, resting his tired body against one of their dressers. "I came home looking for something that would give me definitive proof of what happened. Because I knew I would drive myself crazy otherwise, unable to believe you, unable to trust my own instincts. I wanted proof," she shook her head at the mess, seeing what a fool's errand that was. "But of course you wouldn't leave evidence. I had to steal your phone for even an inkling of what was going on, and all I got was some missing text message." She scoffed, rubbing her tired face with her hand. "The only reason I figured any of this out is because of what I do know about you, the evidence being you. You won't look me in the eye. The way you've kissed me lately. The way you fuck me, or don't fuck me. None of it is the same. It's obvious you're somewhere else, maybe wishing you were with her…"

"No," he cut in to say. "I've never wanted anyone but you. Even with her, I was thinking of you."

She frowned, but didn't respond to that. There was no way to respond to that, whether it was a lie or not. "I thought things were starting to change because I'd gotten boring. Too familiar. Maybe I didn't suck your dick enough, or maybe I did it too much. I thought about these things every night as you laid next to me, but still so far away. Wondering what I did wrong. And maybe…" She thought about the miscarriage and began to scratch her forehead in order to hide her face from him. "Maybe you just hate me now."

 _You ain't trying hard enough, you ain't loving hard enough  
_ _You don't love me deep enough, we not reaching peaks enough_

"Michonne, I could never hate you." He went to the bed, kneeling in front of her. He took her hands into his, hopelessly caressing them with his thumbs. "I swear to god, I love you more than everything."

She looked into his eyes, seeing him for the first time in what felt like forever. His tears said he was genuine, but so was she. This hurt. "Then why would you do this to me?" she whispered, her voice breaking as the words eked out. "I would never do this to you."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me. You consciously made the decision to lie to me over and over again, every day, for weeks." She took her hand back from him, hating the way she could feel herself slipping with just a simple touch. "You had me thinking you were upset about a baby. Had me thinking I'd failed you somehow. Come to find out, you just felt guilty because you took an interest in someone else."

"I didn't take an interest in her. She was…" He sniffled as he searched for the right words. "She was a vessel for all the things I was too proud, too scared to say to you. And I thought that not telling you was somehow protecting you. Sparing your feelings," he nodded, looking down at the floor. "But now I see that I was protecting myself."

Michonne closed her eyes, and it finally struck her that when he said he and Magna talked, it wasn't just the typical silly banter they usually exchanged in her presence. It hadn't been flirting that led to all this kissing. "What did you mean when you told me you and Magna 'said too much'?"

"It was…" He sighed, trying to actually recall everything he'd said. "I shouldn't have told her some of the things I did," he intimated, rubbing his thumb along his eyebrow. "I told her how I felt about us losing the baby. And I explained to her why I couldn't talk to you about it. I-."

"This was before you told me," she recognized, thinking about how he didn't share anything with her about the miscarriage until the night after his strange behavior.

"It was," he nodded. "What happened with her made me realize I should've just come to you in the first place."

"But you told her first."

"Yeah," he croaked.

Michonne immediately felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, after already being stabbed in the back. She swallowed hard, unsure if she even wanted to know anything else. But it felt like she was finally getting the truth, understanding why he felt so much guilt over 'just' a kiss. Obviously, it was more than that. She couldn't stop there. "What else?"

"I told her... I felt like you couldn't see me. But also, I was hiding from you, because I didn't want you to see that I wasn't as strong as you." Rick felt the regret actually weighing him down as he spoke, his body slumping forward as his tears dropped steadily to the carpet. "I told her how you lost your son and I didn't understand how you went on after that. It didn't break you. Nothing breaks you. And I just… I wish I was more like you."

How wrong he was about that. In that very moment, in fact, something within her had broken, and tears came rushing down her face. Finally. "You told her about my…" The very idea that he would share all of this with some virtual stranger was so unfathomable, she couldn't even finish her sentence. She only cried more, realizing that she didn't even know what the hell they'd been fighting about. It was so much bigger than she thought. "I can't believe you, Rick."

"I know." He sobbed too, so angry at himself for what he'd done to her, to them. "This was my weakness. It was my failure, Michonne. Not yours."

 _Blindly in love, I fucks with you  
_ ' _Til I realize I'm just too much for you  
__I'm just too much for you_

"I used to think of you as someone that would never hurt me, and now you're killing me." She shook her head, wiping away her tears, hating the way her voice sounded so congested beneath her crying. She felt like a helpless little girl, and now, she sounded like one, too. "What would you do if you were me? How am I supposed to love you like this?"

Rick shook his head in reply, wiping at his own watery eyes. "Michonne, I was surprised you ever loved me," he revealed quietly. "You talked about how you chose me all those years ago, and I still can't believe you did. I really can't."

A flash of a frown hit her as she digested his words, but she refused to give in to it, refusing to allow him to play the victim. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Poor you, getting everything anyone could want at the end of the world? Perfect wife, perfect kids, and a big ass house to put it all in. Keep me outta your pity party."

He brushed his face one more time and stood from the floor, stepping over his clothes to go stand by the closet. "So you want me to talk, but then you don't wanna listen to anything I have to say."

"Because why didn't you say this a week ago!" she shouted. "Why didn't you tell me how you were feeling a month ago, before telling that woman all of our business?"

"Because you didn't wanna talk about it!" he yelled back. "You kept claiming you were fine, which, at this point, I think we're both clear isn't true, by the way, all while not wanting to talk about it. And you seemed to forget that the conversation didn't end there."

"Fine. Next time you make a mistake, I'll go stick my tongue down Ezekiel's throat. And I'll tell him all about how Lori thought you were dead for all of a week before she started fucking your best friend. See how you feel about it." She could see his face doing that angry twitch it always did whenever a straight man even spoke to her for too long. "Yeah, you don't like that shit." She gulped down the last of her drink, which was mostly just melted ice at that point, wanting to chuck the empty glass at his head. She slammed it back down to the table instead, peering at her husband. "I don't have anything else to say to you."

"You can't just keep shutting down in the middle of the conversation, Michonne. You insult me, then run away? We're never gonna get anywhere this way."

"I've taken all I can take today, Rick," she said as calmly and as honestly as she could. "I get over one hurdle and three more pop up." She pulled herself up from the bed, her body and mind exhausted by all this grief, and she slowly headed for the door. "I don't… I don't know what to do."

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly, his tone begging her not to go.

"I'm gonna sleep in Judith's room."

Rick let out a heavy sigh because he knew he couldn't stop her, but closed his eyes as he crouched down to the floor, unable to watch her leave him again. He could feel his heart breaking in half as he listened to her walk away. He rubbed at his face, his beard damp with his tears, feeling sick. Feeling lost. He thought the hard part would be her finding out about all this, having to tell her what he'd done. But he was wrong, because this, the uncertainty of what would come next, was so much worse. If he was scared before, he was terrified now. Because he didn't know what to do either. He and Michonne had always worked through everything together - be it finding a home, or defending it from someone who wanted to take it from them. But now, with this giant chasm between them, was it even possible for them to fix this? Or was this the beginning of the end of their marriage?

_We just gotta let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be babe_


	8. I Left A Note In The Hallway, By The Time You Read It I'll Be Far Away

_So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you've killed me?  
_ ' _Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head  
__Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead  
__Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted  
__Most bomb pussy  
__W_ _ho, because of me, sleep evaded  
__Her shroud is loneliness  
__Her god was listening  
__Her heaven will be a love without betrayal  
__Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks'_

* * *

The next morning came, slowly and torturously, Michonne feeling as though she'd woken up in a grave when the sun came streaming through Judith's windows. With the little one gone, the house was especially still. Silent. Like a crypt, housing the remains of her marriage. She'd slept much later than she normally would, and yet, between all the tossing, turning, and crying, she'd gotten less sleep than ever. Her entire body felt sore as she pulled herself out of Judy's tiny twin bed, and a splitting headache came along with it. Rubbing her eyes, she trudged into the bright hallway and headed toward the steps.

She hadn't even made it all the way downstairs before noticing Rick asleep on the couch. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, halfway wrapped up in the bedspread from Carl's room, and she rolled her eyes at the sight. She specifically left their bedroom so he could stay there, out of her way, and here he was, as if she made him sleep down there, like a husband in the doghouse. But no, he'd gone down there on his own, like some kind of fucking martyr.

Annoyed, Michonne continued into the kitchen to make herself some toast and honey, figuring it would help with what was most likely a hangover. With Rick asleep in the next room, she would usually take care to be quiet in her tasks, but she ended up doing exactly the opposite that morning, slamming cabinet doors and dishes the more she thought about how utterly pissed she was at the situation. How hurt she was. And it wasn't just because of what'd he'd done with Magna, or even what he'd said to her, but that he was too blind to understand the implications. It made her feel like they'd just wasted five years together. She was in an endless cycle of anger and anguish, and the only thing that made her feel even remotely normal was to be able to make noise in their achingly quiet house.

"You're gonna break somethin' in there," Rick declared from the couch, having been shaken from what little sleep he'd gotten.

She glared in his direction, and she wished there wasn't so much space between them so he could see her doing it. "You mean like you broke your vows?" she snapped.

He nodded to himself as he sat up, knowing he should've seen that coming. "I deserved that."

"Stop talking."

"You obviously wanted me to wake up," he rebutted, referring to all the noise she was making. "I thought… or I guess I _hoped_ that meant you were ready to talk."

"You say that like it's a foregone conclusion that I have to talk to you."

"No," he granted emphatically, "I just know we're not getting anywhere until we stop avoiding having a real conversation."

She looked up at the ceiling, already exasperated, and she'd been awake for all of five minutes. She was glad there was distance between them then; that they weren't facing one another. "Well tell me, how am I supposed to talk to you when I can't even look at you?"

He sighed, shaking his head sadly because he didn't have an answer. "I dunno. Maybe like this."

She scoffed at the idea of having a serious conversation with their backs to each other. "Rick…"

"All right, I'm sorry," he conceded immediately, understanding that it was still too soon for her. He had a lot more time to process what he'd done than she did, and he couldn't rush her. "You want me to go upstairs?"

"I want you to leave the house," she replied, her voice quiet but firm. She could just feel him wanting to protest, and so she quickly added, "for the day. A few hours, at least, while I get my thoughts together. Figure out what I wanna say."

Rick didn't hesitate to agree, wanting to do whatever it took to get their house back in order. "Okay," he said, finally standing from the sofa. "I can do that."

Michonne went on with making her toast, listening for the moment he was finally gone, but noticed that his footsteps had come toward her instead of retreating away, and she turned to find him standing on the other side of the island counter. She noticed his bloodshot eyes first, likely matching her own, and it annoyed her that he was just standing there, staring. "What?"

He swallowed hard as he took her in, all the pain he'd inflicted on her, manifesting itself in physical form. Her beautiful vibrant face was so dull, so tired. She looked the way he felt. His eyes began to water again as he wished he could take away what he'd done to her. "The keys," he answered hoarsely, his gaze flitting to the countertop.

She rolled her eyes as she moved back to the other side of the kitchen, inclined to just make him walk wherever he was headed once again. "They're in my coat, somewhere on the bed."

"I'll just be a few minutes," Rick nodded.

He headed out of the room as quickly as he could, figuring the sooner he got out of there to allow her some time to think, the sooner they could start fixing this. He'd thought about a lot in the past two weeks, and the prior day especially, as he walked home alone, as he laid on that couch all night, contemplating all his mistakes. Michonne said a lot that forced him to think about himself as a man, a husband, a father, and in return, he had a lot to say. Things that had been building for months now, maybe even longer, and he was ready to say it to her, the second she was willing to listen. He was desperate for them to get back on track; to at least try and rebuild what he'd broken. He was relieved to know that his she was at least willing to do that with him.

Back downstairs, Michonne remained tucked away in the kitchen, deciding, after a few minutes, to make some eggs to go with her toast and her broken heart. While waiting for Rick to leave, it had dawned on her that she hadn't eaten in a full day and a half. All that work she'd done for Thanksgiving, and thanks to Rick, she didn't get to enjoy any of it. No wonder she felt so sick, living on anger and alcohol for the past 36 hours. As she chewed on her toast, she went ahead and whipped up an omelette for herself, complete with onions, tomatoes, and peppers from Alexandria's garden – which was essentially Rick's garden – and she loathed every bite she took. But she pushed past her own pettiness just to get something into her stomach. And she stood at the counter to eat her food, not wanting to bother with sitting down. There was no need in getting too comfortable, she figured - not that she could, even if she wanted to. Her home felt like the furthest thing from it at the moment. She was still the guest that had walked into that house yesterday, and the sentiment never went away. The feeling of displacement was palpable. She was suddenly a spectator to her own life.

By the time she was done in the kitchen, she could hear Rick clomping down the steps in those boots. She watched him walk past her in his jacket, keys in hand, with a head full of wet hair, and she had to actively bite her tongue to stop herself from saying something. That need, that instinct to take care of him was always kicking in, even when he didn't deserve it. She wanted to ask where he was going, but then thought better of that, too, not wanting to give him the impression that she cared. She only wanted to make sure he wasn't headed back to Hilltop, but figured - or hoped, at least - he had enough sense not to go back to the scene of his crimes. So she let him go without a word, waiting to hear his car start before springing into action.

First, Michonne bolted upstairs to Judith's room, already quite clear on what she needed to bring for her. In fact, she'd spent the first half of her sleepless night mentally packing her daughter's bag. She gathered a big chunk of her winter clothes, her pajamas and underwear, socks and shoes, making sure to leave exactly half for the occasions when she came home. She had to run up to the attic to find the suitcase they'd gotten for Judith years ago, figuring she would probably never use it, but it couldn't hurt to have. Michonne could remember so vividly how four-year-old Judith loved to roll it around the house, pretending she was going on some fantastic trip. She hated that this was the circumstance she'd finally get to use it, but did her best not to dwell on it. This wasn't her doing, after all. Instead, she continued with packing her other essentials, including her favorite toys - her stuffed lion, Tyreese, especially, as that was her favorite - along with her computer and the books in her usual nighttime rotation, wanting to ensure Judith would always have a piece of home through all of this drama.

Before long, she was able to move on to her own bedroom, and upon entry, immediately noticed that Rick had cleaned up the mess she'd left, down to making the bed and leaving her coat at the foot of it. She wanted so badly to shrug it off as him trying to suck up to her, but in truth, it was a reminder that he did take care of her, too. It wasn't just her doing all the work. Even with recent events unfolding, he was an active participant in their home; they'd been partners. And he didn't deserve praise for it, but she also couldn't take that away from him, as much as she wanted to. Her mother always taught her that when loved ones do something wrong, you cannot forget all the things they do right, and she was trying her best to keep that in mind.

However, that didn't stop Michonne from pulling down the suitcases from the top of their closet shelf. She was careful not to make a mess of what Rick had cleaned up, but she did work quickly to clear out her side of the dresser, gathering all her pants and sweaters and boots. She decided to leave the dresses for the time being, figuring she could come back to get them before Christmas, if need be. She collected all her ugly flannel nightgowns that she'd now have a need for, and topped it off with any remaining toiletries that hadn't already been packed. The dresser was nearly bare by the time she finished, save for what little Rick kept in their room. Such a metaphor for their relationship at the moment.

The lone item of hers that remained visible was a jewelry box, which didn't actually contain much jewelry. A few pairs of earrings and necklaces she'd collected in her travels, but mainly, it kept one specific item that was more precious to her than any diamond could ever be – an unopened roll of breath mints Rick had given her the night they got together. She'd kept it all these years, considering it symbolic of what she thought their relationship to be. Thinking of who they were now, she should've just left the mints where they were. But she pulled the small package from the box, staring at it in her hand for much too long before finally throwing it into her bag along with everything else.

In one swift trip, Michonne got the two suitcases downstairs, along with her coat and keys, leaving them at the front door while she took care of one last thing. She went to the living room and took a seat at the desk near the TV, opening their laptop to leave a short note for Rick, informing him of her departure. But as she began to type the words, she realized she had more to say than just that, and a sticky note on the computer seemed so impersonal, even at this juncture. As much as Rick deserved her cold shoulder, she couldn't bring herself to leave on that note. So instead, she pulled pen and paper from the desk drawer, and she wrote her husband a letter.

* * *

"So did you get lost?" Maggie joked as she strolled into her den to join her friend, plopping into a chair across from her. "You said you were on your way like two hours ago."

Michonne smiled weakly as she looked around the dimly lit room. It felt like déjà vu, arriving at Hilltop just before noon, same as she had a couple of days before on Thanksgiving, sitting alongside Maggie, trying to pretend her life wasn't falling apart. And yet, everything was so much worse now. "I took the scenic route," she finally said, sitting forward to take a sip of water.

Maggie could see that Michonne still wasn't in the mood for small talk, as had been the case since Thursday, but it was hard for her to take all the cageyness. It was reminding her of the Michonne that arrived at the prison way back when. "So are you gonna tell me why you need a place to stay? Or do I just have to assume it has to do with Rick and Magna actin' just as weird as you've been actin' lately?"

She flinched at the sound of their names being uttered in succession that way. She was so used to hearing 'Rick and Michonne', it was jarring for some other woman's name – _that_ woman's name – to be in her place. "What does that mean?"

"I mean I watched Rick sit at Thanksgiving dinner, lookin' so sick, I thought he was gonna pass out," Maggie revealed cautiously. "I thought y'all might've had the flu or somethin'. But then Magna looked scared outta her mind. She left before even eatin' anything, and I haven't seen her since. Then you and Rick leave all of a sudden, and now, just you're back, and you need a place to stay, so… I'm puttin' two and two together, and I hope I'm not makin' five."

Michonne scratched her eyebrow, hoping it would somehow stop her tears from falling, or at least from showing, as she shook her head. "I just needed a change of scenery," she replied, purposely ignoring everything else Maggie had said. "I can stay in one of the-."

"You're stayin' here," Maggie cut her off before she could even suggest otherwise. "You know you can, for as long as you want to." She leaned in, staring into her friend's sad brown eyes, noting the way her wonderfully long eyelashes were stuck together by what had to be dried tears. "I just wanna make sure you're all right."

"I don't wanna talk about the rest of it," Michonne answered seriously. "You're right. And I'm not okay, but I can't…" She let out a soft sigh, trying to rein in her emotions. "I can't wallow in this. I don't want this to be a _thing_. Judith is right up the hill."

Maggie nodded, the concerned frown not leaving her face. "Does Rick know where you are?"

"I'm sure he'll figure it out," she shrugged, "but I asked him not to come after me."

She wasn't sure how to respond, as it was clear Michonne didn't want to talk about it, even if it was also clear that she needed to. But she couldn't force her, and same as she did when they were back at the prison, she could only hope that she would come around in her own time. "All right, well then let's do the opposite of wallow in it. We should have fun tonight."

"Fun?" she scoffed from behind her glass of water.

"Sasha and Tara are still here," she reminded her. "I don't think Carol's gone yet either. We'll get drunk and eat leftovers and have a girls' night."

"Maggie, I'm not in any kinda mood to socialize," she said, sounding exhausted by the idea already. "I just wanna go to bed."

"That sounds like wallowin' to me," Maggie countered. She moved out of her seat to sit next to Michonne, taking her hand into hers. "I can't fix what's happenin', much as I'd like to. But if I can take your mind off of it for a few hours, I'm gonna make sure that happens, at the very least."

Michonne exhaled again, pushing one of her locs behind her ear as she thought about how nice it would be to forget about this personal hell she was in for even a minute. "I can't promise I'll be any fun, but… I can sit there and eat."

"And drink."

She only smiled awkwardly as she stood from the sofa, knowing she'd probably done enough of that on her own. "In the meantime, I'm gonna go see my kids."

"Glenn took Hershel and Judith out to milk cows, so take my galoshes if you go out there."

Michonne nodded, figuring she could use that time to start unpacking instead. It was going to be strange for Judith, especially, being uprooted this way, and the more she could make it feel like home for her, the better. "As much as I wish this wasn't happening, it means a lot that I can lean on you like this, Maggie. I appreciate you."

"Michonne, stop it," she shook her head, standing to meet her friend's stance. "We've always had each other's backs. That's why we're here." She pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. "I love you, okay?"

She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to cry as she melted into Maggie's embrace, feeling as though she was in a safe space for the first time in weeks. They always joked about being sisters, but there were no other words to describe her and what their friendship meant to Michonne when it felt like she had nothing else. "I love you, too," she whispered, squeezing her back. And it was then, after a full night of deliberating about it, and another two hours of driving in circles questioning whether she could actually leave, she knew she'd made the right decision.

* * *

Rick had done his best to leave Michonne alone for the majority of the day, ignoring all his urges to call and ask if he could come home yet, and instead, filled his time raiding libraries in search of books Judith would like. By nightfall, he'd collected more books than could fit under the Christmas tree, but he'd yet to hear from Michonne. He tried calling and texting, to no avail, so he'd optimistically decided to head on home. Of course, the writing was already on the wall when he pulled up to the house and her car wasn't there, but he ignored his common sense in favor of the unlikelihood that she would be back soon.

So he went on inside his dark, cold home, looking for a sign that his wife hadn't left him. He studied the coat closet, where everything was still in place, aside from her and Judith's coats being gone; he surveyed the living room, their laptop in place on the desk, her katana still hanging over the mantle. Nothing downstairs was particularly out of place - it was all spotless, in fact, aside from a folded sheet of paper sitting on the kitchen counter. He knew what it was when he picked it up, but purposely avoided looking at it before heading upstairs on one last shred of hope. His stomach dropped as he turned on the bedroom light and took note of the bare dresser staring back at him. He went to check her drawers too, if for no other reason than to make himself feel worse, as he knew his nightmare was coming true.

Still, Rick sat down on their bed with that paper, praying to whatever god there was that something in this note would explain this all away. That she'd just cleared out her side of the dresser to reline the drawers, and she'd be right back from whatever errand she'd gone on in the dark. Before phones were reestablished, she would do that all the time. He still had all the notes she'd left him, pointless as they were. Welcome home notes after a long trip, or a quick message on his nightstand when she had to leave before him, letting him know that breakfast was in the oven. He wished more than anything that this was another of those instances. But as he opened the paper and found a full wall of text waiting for him, any hope he had left was shattered, as was his heart, as he came to terms with the fact that this was definitely a goodbye.

_**Rick,** _

_**I apologize for doing this in this way, but I knew I couldn't stay in this house any longer. And I don't even know that I could look you in the face in order to say what I really need to say. I'm sure you've figured it out by now, but I'm gone, and I'd appreciate if you didn't come after me. Judith is with me, and I'd like for it to stay that way, for the most part. Of course, you can see her whenever you'd like. Weekends would be preferable since she has school, but I'm willing to work out whatever schedule is best for the three of us.** _

_**I don't know if this is the end of us, but I do know that I need space from you. We've been practically inseparable for over half a decade, and maybe we've gotten a bit lost in that time. Our personalities and our problems all melding into one. I don't think we've given ourselves the attention we deserve, considering we're always taking care of each other, or someone else. So I'm going to take the time and space I need to figure out who I am again. And I hope you do the same. Because somewhere along the way, you started telling yourself you weren't good enough for me, and I don't know why.** _

_**You said that I'm unbreakable, like some kind of deity that doesn't exist in this plane. I'd say robot, but even machines break sometimes. You told Her that I can't see you, but… what do you see when you look at me? A person? Or a superhero? I find myself wondering if you fell in love with the idea of me. I'd never considered it before, but… maybe that's why I lost my husband the same night I lost the baby. Did I suddenly become fallible to you? Seems like it. I think of lovers as trees, growing to and from one another, searching for the same light. Did I take too much of your light? Have you grown too far away from me? Yes, I am extraordinary (as are you), and I make no apologies for that, but I am still human. And I always thought you were the one person that always knew that. All the times we've cried in all the battles we've lost, how could you think otherwise? Perhaps, in peacetime, you've simply forgotten.** _

_**There's a small part of me that's relieved to know you didn't have sex with Her. The Rick I know could never slip that far, so at least I know you're still in there. Somewhere. But the much bigger issue is that you went to someone else. You found an emotional bond with some other woman. And that's such a "you" thing to do, how am I supposed to trust that you won't do this again? Honestly, it hurts so much, I almost wish you had just fucked her. I could get past that eventually. I think. But true intimacy isn't about taking your clothes off. You know that. That's what you and I built a relationship on. And now, we're apparently so disconnected, you feel comfortable enough to do that with someone else. And how do we move on from that?** _

_**I won't pretend that none of this is my fault. I blocked you out when you needed someone to let you in the most. Believe me, I understand that now, and if this is the end of the road for us, I'll probably regret that forever. But when one of us makes a mistake, the other should be better, not worse. That's always been true for us - when I'm down, you pull me back up; when you're too far gone, I bring you back - and I don't know when that broke in us. It makes me sad, because up until now, you've been one of the very best parts of my life. I was born again when I found you. And now I feel like I've died.** _

_**I love you, Rick. God knows I do. And I know that you love me, too. But sometimes, that's not enough, and never again will I stay with someone that continually disappoints me. I can't afford to do that, not when we have a child to raise. The last time I let a man's insecurity bring me down, I lost everything, including myself, and I refuse to be that shell of a person again. So please use this time to figure out if you even want this. Don't try to fix this because of some sense of honor, as that won't help either of us. Think about what you want for your life. Maybe marriage isn't for you anymore. Or, if you really and truly believe I'm better than you, if you can't understand why I chose you, then maybe I'm not for you anymore. Maybe I never was. I don't know.** _

_**One way or another, because of Judith and Carl, you and I will be together forever. But whether we're together as husband and wife remains to be seen. You have work to do.** _

_**Take care of yourself,  
** _ _**Michonne** _


	9. I Ain't Thinkin' 'Bout You

Rick stared blankly at the gut-wrenching letter in his hands, his tears dropping to the page, smearing the hours-old ink beneath his fingers. Somewhere between the beginning and the end of Michonne's words, he'd sunk from the bed to the floor, finding himself at his lowest, quite literally and figuratively, as he took in the enormity of what he'd done. How he'd broken his marriage so deeply that his wife thought it possible that he didn't want to be with her anymore. He'd driven her away.

Wiping his wet hands on his jeans, he folded the crinkled paper, not wanting to ruin it any more than he had. He sat kneeled at the foot of the bed, his forehead resting pitifully on the comforter, noting the way it still smelled of her coconut scent. He closed his eyes and tried to picture her sitting there still. He reached out to touch the spot on the bed beside him, as if he'd find her knee waiting for him, but there was nothing. His fingers were left caressing nothing but cotton and loose threads. Michonne was gone.

And the worst part about it was that he had no one to blame but himself. No walkers, no Governor or Negan to pin this on. Even with Lori, where there'd been plenty of guilty parties, it all boiled down to the simple fact that they probably weren't right for one another at that point in their lives. And so, it became no one's fault, really – just a great tragedy in his life, amplified by the fact that he never had the chance to properly grieve. But with Michonne, it was… different. He loved her - he was more sure of that than anything, and he didn't want or need time to think about it, or consider whether he wanted to be married anymore. What he'd done wasn't about any lack of love for her, but for himself. Some reckless fear of looking weak beside her. Allowing that fear to turn into envy and, if he were being honest with himself – which, finally, he was – probably some resentment. He'd done the same thing to her that Mike had done, after years of accepting her praise for being better than him. And even worse, he brought some other woman into it. Now, because of what he'd done, and then subsequently failed to do, he was on the verge of losing her. This family that they'd worked so hard to keep alive was dying. And it was on him.

Rick continued to cry as he contemplated it all, the words of her letter especially, haunting him. It was like a song that he couldn't get out of his head. _I need space from you. What do you see when you look at me? I lost my husband the same night I lost the baby. It hurts. I feel like I've died. Maybe I'm not for you anymore_. He remembered how he felt the day everything happened with Magna, and all he could think about was this very outcome if Michonne ever found out. All that time pretending he was saving her from something, when in reality, he was hurting them both. In all his grief, he'd left her behind. Forgotten her. The tears came harder as he thought of all the ways he could've avoided this. Pride had been his undoing with Negan, and he'd vowed never to come that close to failure again. But he was back there now, and in worse shape now without Michonne by his side. He'd have to fight back in a different way this time. Fail. Fail again. Fail better.

That was also the only thing to keep him from completely falling apart in all this. Michonne might've been gone, but she wasn't done. She needed space, not freedom. She took her clothes, but she left the picture frames. She still lived there, and so, he still lived on hope. Her letter didn't end with goodbye, but with instructions. A request, even: _You have work to do_. So he slowly picked himself up from the floor, pulling himself from the depressive spiral he normally would've allowed himself to go down, and he found his phone in his pocket. He had work to do.

* * *

_You're trying to roll me up_  
_I ain't picking up_  
_Headed to this club  
_ _I ain't thinkin' 'bout you_

"All right," Maggie declared loudly as she reclaimed her seat on the ground. She looked around the small circle of ladies, clapping her hands to get their attention. Her tipsiness had her feeling a tad bit bossy as she took charge of the ladies' night, but no one seemed to mind, as most of them were equally intoxicated. "Wait, where'd Rosita go?"

"She ran home to get a blanket," Sasha was able to recall as the only sober one in the bunch. "She'll be right back."

"I have ninety fuckin' blankets…" she gestured toward her giant house behind them, but quickly let it go with a small sigh. "Whatever."

"I could actually use another one," Carol raised her hand.

"I'll go get more," Enid offered, already standing to head back inside. She didn't want to sound like a kid, considering she was the youngest of the group, but she had been freezing.

"Carol's gone soft on us," Tara joked, smiling at her from across the fire. "Alexandria Carol wouldn't let a little cold bother her."

"That's because Alexandria Carol didn't have someone keepin' her warm every night," Maggie said with an impish smirk.

The ladies laughed in unison as Carol shook her head at them all. Everyone was always so amused with her rather active personal life. "It's just cold out here. That's all."

"Now wait a minute," Sasha cut in. "Are we just gonna pretend Alexandria Carol didn't have Tobin?"

Michonne frowned at the name, thinking it vaguely familiar, but not in reference to Carol. "Who?"

"Tobin? Tall, dopey guy. He was the construction foreman before Abe?"

She felt as though she must have missed an entire chapter of Alexandria's history, and she turned to Carol incredulously. "When the hell were you with him?"

"It was like… a weeklong fling. It was ridiculous," shook her head again. "I can't believe Sasha even brought it up," she added, playfully glaring at her.

"How did I completely miss this?"

"All you had to do was blink," Maggie laughed.

"That was when you and Rick were doing nothing but each other," Carol reminded her. "You missed a lot for a few days there."

"Well that could be any few days in the last five years," Rosita announced upon returning to the festivities. She had her wool blanket wrapped up to her neck as she took her seat between Tara and Sasha. "What are we talking about?"

"Carol and Tobin," Michonne answered before anyone else could, taking a big gulp of her wine.

"I think we were moving on to Michonne and Rick," Carol countered.

Maggie knew that was a subject Michonne probably didn't want on the table at the moment, so she spoke up on her behalf. "No, I think we were still on you and Tobin."

"We've talked about it longer than the relationship even lasted," she told Rosita, rolling her eyes at the subject. "I don't even know how we got here."

"You asked for a blanket like some kinda amateur," Michonne recapped for her.

As if on cue, Enid returned to the bonfire with an armful of blankets and another bottle of wine. "This is the last of the red," she informed Maggie, handing it over for her to open. "I checked the refrigerator and you guys have lots of white left."

"That's because no one likes it," Rosita made a face at the thought. "They basically give it away at the grocery."

Tara narrowed her eyes, wondering if she was already too drunk to understand the statement. "Don't they give everything away there?"

"Shut up."

"Don't worry about it," Maggie dismissed the issue, already pouring more drinks for her friends. "We have whiskey and other shit once this is gone." She rolled another bottle of water over to Sasha and then gave the back of Enid's thigh a light tap. "Sit," she instructed her. "We've been out here an hour and I still haven't done my toast."

Michonne chuckled at both her insistence and lack of focus, given she'd been saying this for thirty minutes now. "And why do you need a toast?"

"Because. It's girls' night, and we never do this, and I wanna commemorate this rare and momentous occasion."

_Me and my ladies sip our D'usse cups_  
_I don't give a fuck, chucking my deuces up_  
_Suck on my balls, pause, I had enough  
_ _I ain't thinkin' 'bout you_

"Someone should record this," Enid suggested, already laughing at how ridiculous Maggie was probably going to sound. "Since it's a momentous occasion and all."

"Don't you dare," Maggie pointed to her, her tone turning from big sister to mother, as it often did. "Sit."

"Get on with the toast!" Tara shouted, ready to chug her newly acquired cup of vino.

"Okay, okay." She held up her glass with one hand, and covered her forehead with the other as she tried to think of something to say. "So first of all, round of applause to us just for makin' it this far, right?" She smiled ruefully as she thought back to each of their origin stories, how dire the circumstances were in all of their initial meetings. "I am so fuckin' proud of every one of you ladies. You've worked so hard, pulled yourselves up from nothin', and none of you ever gave a shit what any man had to say about it. You've saved yourselves and the rest of us, you made it from Georgia to Virginia and created whole entire lives for yourselves with sheer will and love, and-"

"I'm not from Georgia," Enid interrupted her to say.

"Oh hush, you know what I mean," she said, kicking her boot.

Rosita also raised her hand to object. "I'm from Texas."

Maggie only stared at her blankly for a few beats before continuing. "As I was saying. It's an honor to walk among you ladies. I've spent the last several years learnin' from y'all, growin' with you, and I'm so glad that after everything we've all been through, we're still standin'. You are all my heroes and I love you." She held her glass higher, her green gaze briefly falling on each of them before landing on Michonne, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Okay, drink," she finished, taking a long sip of her wine as everyone laughed.

"I thought we were supposed to be having fun," Michonne joked, feeling a tugging at her heart. Maggie reminding her of how far she'd come seemed to only evoke thoughts of how much she had to lose. "Can we not do emotional shit tonight?"

"Well I'm sorry, but we're never all together anymore, and I just wanted to say it while I had the opportunity. People never get flowers while they can still smell 'em."

"This is true," Carol agreed, her own thoughts immediately shifting to Daryl in that moment. It had been years since he died and she still thought about him every single day. How she left him without even saying goodbye – just some stupid letter. And she didn't even have the heart to leave it for him, specifically. "A change of subject is definitely in order, though. I didn't come out here to be cold and cry."

"Well I did have a question I wanted to ask you guys," Enid offered, looking around the group a bit bashfully. "Although I don't know if I should with Michonne here…"

Michonne groaned in reply, scratching the bridge of her nose as she could only imagine what Enid could have to say. "Go on," she relented, waving her off. "I'll try not to be Carl's mom tonight. I'm not in charge of anything. I'm not Rick's wife. I'm just… Michonne."

_Middle fingers up, put them hands high_  
_Wave it in his face, tell him, 'Boy, bye'_  
_Boy, bye_  
_Middle fingers up  
_ _I ain't thinkin' 'bout you_

"Okay," she sighed. "So you guys are all in like these serious relationships and marriages, and you've been with your partners for years. And I guess I just wonder how did you _know_ they were right for you? Like, Carl and I have been together for almost three years, and I feel like I'm still waiting on some sign to tell me I'm doing this right. So was there like a moment for you?"

Michonne closed her eyes and took another sip of wine, equal parts unsure of how to answer the question, and trying not to take offense that her son's girlfriend was the one asking it.

"Well, it was super fast for me and Manda," Tara was the first to say. "I don't think we know necessarily anything except for the fact that right now, we want to be with each other. It never had to be any more than that. That's kind of how I've always been."

"But then you decided to have a baby," Rosita said. "It had to be more complicated then."

"Well yeah, but I mean, everyone thinks they're gonna be together forever until they aren't. I think we just figured, no matter what, this kid is gonna be loved by four really awesome people. And that's really all that matters," she shrugged. "You can only do what you can do. Can't control the future."

"And see, my problem was always that I wanted to control the future," Sasha submitted. "After everything I went through, losing my brother, losing Bob, I was not trying to have someone else I cared about. Someone else that I could lose. So when Abraham said he was interested, it just sort of took me by surprise, and I don't like surprises," she laughed. "It took me a long time to give in, and even when I did, I still had no idea what I was doing. He was always so sure of everything, and I just kinda followed along for a while. It was strange, and kind of exciting, but I didn't _know_. I'd say I wasn't truly there, I wasn't completely comfortable until I got pregnant."

"Wait, which pregnancy," Tara asked, hints of teasing in her tone. "Because if you mean this one…"

"No, definitely with William," she grinned, gently rubbing her currently growing baby bump. "I would not have stuck around to make another one, I promise."

Rosita looked on happily, glad that she and Sasha had gotten to a place where none of that even mattered anymore. Where she could be happy for her and Abraham. Because she'd found her happy place elsewhere. "There are about a million different ways to fall in love," she proclaimed. "Ask me five years ago if I could _ever_ see myself with Eugene, and I would've punched you in the face. But… friendship often evolves into more. I think just about all of our relationships started there," she realized, surveying the circle. "And when you allow yourself to be vulnerable, your heart just starts… seeing things differently."

"You two are so young," Maggie said, referring to Enid and Carl. "I'm honestly surprised you haven't broken up and gotten back together at least three times by now," she chuckled.

"We're not that much younger than you and Glenn were."

"No, you are," Michonne interceded, a small smirk on her face. Sometimes, she still felt like Carl was the fourteen-year-old kid she met back in Georgia.

"My point is," Maggie went on, "it's not _supposed_ to be any kind of way. I knew from almost the moment I met Glenn. He was the best person I ever met, and I wanted that. I wanted to be a part of that. Whether he wanted me was a different story, but I knew way before him, and that was okay. Because once he figured it out, it was just… magic."

"Okay, but what if you don't believe in magic," Enid questioned her.

"Then you don't believe in love," Michonne replied bluntly. "As much as it's about hard work and trust and commitment, there's also something magical there that you can't quite account for. Something beyond the realm of logic. I met Rick when I was too broken to even feel anything, and without doing much of anything but being my friend, he brought me back to life. It's like Etta says, 'You smiled and then the spell was cast.' And I just, I knew before we ever got together. I loved this man. I would always love him. So when we did finally decide to jump, it didn't take a lot of thought or discussion between us. It was already a done deal. For me, anyway." She innately rolled her eyes as she thought about how it obviously wasn't so simple for him. "What you do with the information is up to you. But if you think love has anything to do with reason, then you aren't in it."

"Amen," Rosita nodded, holding up her mug. "Underneath all the other bullshit, you have to have that first."

"Well we had that first," Enid frowned, confused by what she was missing. "I mean, we were friends, and there was something kind of ethereal about that. But I keep waiting for, like, I dunno... butterflies or some shit. We're just so comfortable, I don't know if I'm doing it right."

Maggie sighed dramatically as she pulled her into a motherly embrace. "Oh, my sweet summer child. That is exactly what your relationship is supposed to be."

"Comfortable," Sasha emphasized. "Not complacent."

"Never complacent," Tara agreed. "That's the death of your relationship."

"Especially with sex," Carol added, popping a remaining piece of blueberry cobbler into her mouth. "Once that goes, you might as well let the relationship go with it."

"Carol!" Maggie shrieked in shock.

"What?"

"Carl's mom is literally sitting right here."

"Michonne knows he has sex," she defended loudly, her mouth full of food. "I'm just offering advice."

Enid giggled uncomfortably at the exchange, escaping Maggie's embrace to warm her hands with the heat of the fire. "Thank you, Carol."

Michonne ran her hand over her face, shaking her head again as she mumbled, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"Oh, don't you try to be a prude now," Carol teased her. "We still haven't forgotten your wedding."

"Why… are you bringing up old stuff, Carol?"

"Wait," Sasha cut in with a confused frown. "What happened at the wedding?"

"Nothing," Michonne tried to answer, hiding behind her glass as she knew she was full of shit. "Absolutely nothing."

Rosita turned to Sasha, incredulous that she was even asking that question. "You don't remember how they basically skipped their entire reception?"

"We did not _skip_ it."

"I thought they were taking pictures," Sasha tried to recall, though her memory was failing her now. "Wasn't that what they said?"

"Well I wouldn't be surprised if a camera was involved," Carol smirked. "But Maggie, where did we end up finding them? In the basement?"

"Yep," she confirmed, already laughing at the memory. She glanced at Michonne to make sure that she was okay with the story being told, glad to see her laughing, too.

"We walk in the basement, Michonne's dress is practically over her head, and Rick is just… his head was _buried_ between her thighs. It was magnificent."

"My favorite part is that they didn't even notice us," Maggie added amongst everyone's laughter. "Like, I almost wanted to stay and see how long it would take them."

"If Maggie hadn't told me, I never would've known," Michonne shrugged. "I'm really not even sorry."

"Wow," Sasha marveled at both the story and the fact that this was her first time hearing it. "I can't believe I _completely_ missed that."

"Even I knew that one," Enid said, taunting Sasha.

The group went into a comfortable quiet as their laughs slowly dwindled, and Michonne looked around the small group with a smile. Her life had been so consumed by Rick, as evidenced by the conversations at hand, she forgot what it was like to just hang out with friends. When she did get the opportunity, it was in spurts, with one-on-one interaction, which she loved, but this camaraderie, having a sisterhood with these women, it was so much more important than she realized. Having a full life wasn't just about her husband and her kids. It meant having her own life. In just a few short hours at Hilltop, out of the cocoon she'd wrapped herself in over the past two days, all that anger was gone. Hurt still remained, of course, and she certainly wasn't ready to suddenly reconcile, but she felt, not good, but _better_ , at least. She needed this.

_Sorry, I ain't sorry_  
_I ain't sorry, I ain't sorry_  
_Nigga, nah_  
_Sorry, I ain't sorry_  
_I ain't sorry, I ain't sorry  
_ _No no, hell nah_

"So I have a question," Michonne decided to announce, a cheeky grin spreading across her buoyant face as she eyed all the ladies. "Enid, you don't get to answer."

"Seriously?" she sighed.

"Just... take notes," Maggie shushed her, curious as to what Michonne could be asking. She had a strange gleam in her eye, and she wondered if this would be a precursor to her revealing what the hell was going on with her and Rick. "What's the question?"

"Stop looking at me like that," she hit Maggie's thigh, practically reading her mind. "It's a fun question. What... have you learned about sex since the world ended?"

"Ooh," Carol gasped with delight at the interesting inquiry. "That's a good one."

"I got one," Rosita piped up, raising her hand for reasons even she couldn't explain. She was laughing before she could say the words, and had to force herself to stop. "I've learned not to judge a dick by its cover."

"Oh my god," Tara cackled along with the rest of the group. "I'm so curious as to whether that's about Eugene or Abraham."

"No comment…"

"It must be about Eugene," Sasha was quick to say in defense of her man. "Because personally, I've learned that bigger is absolutely, one-hundred percent most certainly better."

Maggie crawled over the two women between herself and Sasha in order to offer her a high five for her statement. "Yes, ma'am."

Michonne laughed at her drunken friend practically stretched across her lap as she directed her attention to Carol. "How about you?"

"I guess," she started to stroke her chin, pretending to think. "I'd have to say, experimenting is a necessity."

"If money were still a thing, I'd pay a lot of it to see what you and Morgan get up to," Tara intimated, staring over at her. "That's so fucking hot."

"I'm sure I could teach you a few things," Carol quipped, eyeing her right back. "But maybe tell us what you've learned first."

"Most important lesson I've learned is to eat more cranberries."

"Wait, what?" Enid asked, wondering if she'd heard her correctly over the roaring fire.

Michonne snorted at the advice, knowing exactly what it meant, and recalled a time when she and Rick had gone through every fruit imaginable for the same reason Tara was suggesting. "So wait, I was under the impression this only worked on men. Because I've tried cherries, cranberries, apples, you name it. And Rick didn't notice any difference."

"Oh, it absolutely works," Tara nodded. "It's like… having fruit juice for breakfast now."

As everyone burst into more laughter, Enid just looked on, utterly confused. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about."

"Yeah, it works for both of us," Maggie agreed, inadvertently ignoring her sister. "It's nice, because you're preparin' yourself for the one taste, and then you get a surprise."

"A good surprise though," Carol submitted. "Not the kind that blinds you."

Rosita was the first to groan in agreement, but also a bit of exasperation in her voice. "Oh my god, Eugene has the worst aim."

"Which surprises literally no one," Tara quipped.

"Abraham always thinks he's finished, and then I get caught in like a rainstorm," Sasha shook her head.

"The best part of trying for a baby," Michonne started to say, picking at the remnants of cold sweet potato from her plate, "I don't have to lie like a corpse while he goes and finds a towel afterward."

Maggie spit out her drink as she laughed, all too familiar with that occurrence. "Nine months of pullout-free sex is totally worth another baby."

"Amen to that," Sasha chuckled with them.

"So much cleaner."

Tara could only shake her head and sigh. "I'm so glad I'm a lesbian."

"I gotta say, I have never felt more like a kid than in this moment," Enid quietly added. "So much I don't know."

Rosita picked up the last of the cherry pie as she assured her, "You're not supposed to know anything at your age."

"Maggie, Michonne," Carol called out to the relentlessly giggling duo, "what wisdom do you have to impart from your post-apocalyptic lives?"

"Oh." Michonne stared into her empty cup, forgetting she had even asked the question. "I dunno. I've learned a lot."

"Same," Maggie concurred. "In fact, I've learned that learnin' is fun. The things I've taught myself to do in the past few years…"

Michonne leaned into her friend, unable to physically contain her laughter. "Same."

Sasha smiled as she rubbed her belly again, feeling little kicks that always came when she drank too much water. "Even the baby isn't buying that as an answer, Michonne."

"I'm thinking!"

"Can we get on with the whiskey or whatever," Rosita asked, holding up her mug. "'Cause I'm fresh outta wine."

"I'll text Glenn to have him bring it out," Maggie nodded, pulling her phone from her jacket. The first thing she found upon unlocking it was a missed call from Rick just a few minutes before, and she immediately, though not so discreetly, showed it to Michonne.

"What a dumbass," she commented out loud, smirking at his obvious desperation. If he was calling Maggie, she could only imagine how many times he'd called her by now. But her phone was safely inside the house, where he couldn't bother her.

_Now you wanna say you sorry, now you wanna call me crying_  
_Now you gotta see me wildin', now I'm the one that's lying_  
_And I don't feel bad about it, it's exactly what you get  
_ _Stop interrupting my grinding_

"Ooh, who's a dumbass?" Rosita wondered, still cradling her empty cup.

"My ex-husband," she replied nonchalantly, not even thinking of the words coming out of her mouth. "We're having a thing right now."

The other six ladies went quiet, all of them wondering if they'd heard her correctly. Because even in their various states of drunkenness, that seemed to come across loud and clear to everyone. Everyone but Michonne, at least.

"Do you have… a husband before Rick?" Tara asked for all of them.

"What?" she laughed a bit nervously – a first for Michonne in quite some time. "No."

"Well then you just called Rick your ex-husband," Carol informed her. "And considering you're out here without him…"

"Oh god," she quickly waved off her slip of the tongue – a Freudian slip, perhaps – running her hand over her face. "No, we're not. It's not that bad," she promised them.

"But this isn't just a 'mini-vacation'," Sasha realized. "What's going on?"

_I left a note in the hallway_  
_By the time you read it I'll be far away  
_ _I'm far away, but I ain't fuckin' with nobody_

"Nothing is going on," she lied, purposefully, because she was suddenly acutely aware that Enid was sitting there. She just couldn't take the chance that Carl would find out the specifics. "Couples fight, they need space. It's fine."

Maggie had to stop herself from saying anything, knowing good and well Michonne wasn't the least bit fine. At least she hadn't been silent all night, like the prison version of Michonne, but staying quiet about everything that mattered was just as unhelpful. But she also understood that trying to make her open up at this juncture would've been useless too, so she continued to play along. "I already told her we'd kick his ass if she wanted us to. But she declined."

"Cancel your text message," she said, ignoring Maggie's offer yet again. "I'm gonna run to the ladies room, I can get the liquor."

"Bring back an answer to your question, too," Maggie said, figuring she probably wanted to get back to lighter discussion topics.

Michonne smiled appreciatively at her friend's attempt to protect her as she scurried inside the house. From the back door, she could see Glenn sitting on the couch in the den, but was surprised to walk in and find Magna sitting across from him. She was wearing her coat, so she probably hadn't been there long, and she looked so sad, it was almost pitiful. Almost.

For just a moment, Michonne wondered what she was doing there. Unless she was just completely obtuse, she had to know what was going on, so to show her face at Glenn and Maggie's was rather bold. Was she trying to steal someone else's husband now? Garner sympathy? Michonne was just drunk enough to straddle that line between rational and emotional, and was sorely tempted to just ask Magna what she was up to now. But the rational side of her won out, as it usually did, and she continued into the room with no intention of even acknowledging her presence. In fact, when she caught the woman's eye, she threw it right back, and her focus landed on Glenn instead. "Hey, where do you guys keep the whiskey?" she asked him breezily. She could feel Magna's discomfort from across the room, and it made her smile.

_Let's have a toast to the good life_  
_Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes_  
_Me and my baby, we gon' be alright  
_ _We gon' live a good life_

"Umm, look in the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator," he turned his head in her direction, oblivious to the tension in the room. Magna was fidgeting, her fingers visibly trembling upon seeing Michonne again. "Can you guys try not to drink it all?"

"I make no promises," Michonne called back, already having left the room.

She continued up the stairs to her wing of the house, her mission being to grab an extra pair of socks and her scarf, once she used the bathroom. But of course, her phone managed to catch her eye the moment she walked in her bedroom, illuminating the darkness as it vibrated against her bed. She knew it was Rick, because who else would it be? But she convinced herself to check, concocting a reason in her head about it possibly being someone else. She picked up the phone, watching as Rick's name flashed across her screen, with his stupid, handsome face displayed in the corner.

_He only want me when I'm not there  
_ _He better call Becky with the good hair_

Michonne didn't blink until the call finally faded to black, as she was too inebriated to be properly mad at him anymore. Just amused, really. She unlocked the phone to find that she actually had over forty missed calls and messages from him since she'd arrived to Hilltop. The assortment of texts ranging from 'Is it okay to come home yet?' to 'Where did you go?' to 'Please, can we talk?' only made her laugh. Not out of malice or spite, but because it was such a reversal of what she'd been through in the prior two weeks. Asking twenty questions, pleading for and never getting an answer; wondering where the hell he'd disappeared to in his mind. Now, maybe, he had at least a taste of what he'd done to her. Now, maybe, he could understand what it feels like when the person you love most in the world decides to shut you out. And while that wasn't exactly her intent in leaving – she truly just needed space – she wasn't going to complain if that was the impact it had on him. She was having fun, finally; not faking it for Judith, or drinking to drown out her feelings, but as the supplement to socializing that she used to use it for. She was okay, for the moment, and she refused to let Rick ruin that. And so just as another message came in from him, this time stating that he loved her, she ignored it and turned off her phone all together.

_He better call Becky with the good hair_


	10. Come Back

The next day, Maggie awoke to the irritating sense of the sun shining on her face, accompanied by a ringing sound that she assumed to be the doorbell, but allowed for the possibility that it was simply her head. She slowly sat up in her empty bed, struggling with remembering how she'd even gotten there. Last she recalled, she was with Michonne, on the couch, watching I Love Lucy and eating cold chicken.

Checking the clock across the room, she noted that it was nearly 11:00, and quickly scrambled to her feet, feeling flustered. Groaning to herself when the ringing showed no signs of stopping. "Is somebody gonna get that?" she shouted as loudly as her grogginess would allow. But the lack of response told her she was probably home alone. It was Sunday morning, so Glenn couldn't have gone far, and Michonne had to have been just as hungover as she was. But she trudged to the bedroom door, the quiet house furthering her suspicions. A note left on the hallway table confirmed them – Michonne and Glenn had taken the kids over to Carl's for breakfast.

"I'm comin'," she yelled to the front door, already annoyed with the visitor's insistence. It made sense though, when she got to the foyer and found Rick waiting there, looking about as bad as she felt. She rubbed her eyes as she pulled back the door and stood in the threshold. "Hey," she glared at him.

"Hey, Maggie," he greeted her in a voice hoarser than hers. A night of crying and worrying left him with little sleep and it showed. "I umm… I wanted to see if I could talk to Michonne."

She rested her hand on her hip as she stared past him and into the distance at the pasture behind him. "You probably should've called first."

"I did," he nodded, his index finger rubbing at one of his tired eyes. "But she didn't answer, so…"

"Well, no answer is usually an answer."

He sighed, understanding that Michonne had likely revealed to Maggie what happened, and she was just as angry with him as his wife. But he couldn't let that deter him. "I just – I just need to talk to her," he said, his voice pathetically soft as he stuttered the words out. "Just… for a minute."

"Rick, she's not here, so I dunno what to tell you."

"Her car is outside."

She started to tell him that she was at Carl's, but stopped herself, knowing he'd go straight there next. "She's not here right now," she appended. She stared at her friend, recognizing that he was probably devastated by Michonne leaving, and if she was right about what happened, he should be. But she couldn't betray Michonne after she specifically said she didn't want to see him. "You need to go," she told him, folding her arms over her chest to shield herself from the cold. "Now."

"Maggie…"

"She doesn't wanna see you, Rick. What do you want me to say?"

"She told you that?"

"She told _you_ that," Maggie shot back. "And I know you didn't think she meant for twenty-four hours, so stop bein' an asshole and respect her wishes."

He swallowed visibly as he peered past Maggie into the house. He knew he was taking a chance just showing up like this. But Michonne hadn't answered any of his calls, and he couldn't let her just run away. It wasn't fair to either of them, her taking off without any discussion between them. Her letter was the start of one, but they'd yet to have a real conversation. Still. And how could she make a decision about her future without that happening? "Is Judith here?" he asked, already having an idea of the answer. It was so quiet, he could guess none of the kids were home.

"No," she replied curtly.

"She's still with Carl," he figured, nodding. She probably didn't know what was going on yet, and that was a relief. But also another thing he needed to speak with Michonne about – what would they tell her? When could she come home? "Are you sure Michonne's not here?"

"You callin' me a liar?"

He gave her a knowing look, seeing how he'd witnessed Maggie lie on many occasions, albeit usually to save their asses. Of course she'd lie to protect Michonne. "She upstairs?"

"She's not here," she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him.

He looked at the staircase and then peered upstairs, trying to calculate how far away her bedroom probably was. "Michonne!" he called out to her, his rough voice echoing through the vastness of the house. "Michonne, please come out!"

"Rick," Maggie hissed at him. If he got any louder, neighbors would hear.

"I'm not leavin' without talking to her," he said, brushing past Maggie to enter the foyer. "Michonne!"

"Hey!" Maggie barked at him, grabbing his arm to push him back toward the door. But she ended up slapping him somewhere between his cheek and his neck, solely for having the audacity to barge into her home, which startled them both as they separated. "I said she's not here."

Rick closed his eyes as the sting of her hit ran through his entire face, his jaw clenching as he moved back onto the doorstep. "I just want my wife," he declared quietly.

"I understand that," she said, her tone even more clipped than it already had been. "But you try that again and you're gonna get more than a smack upside the head."

"I'm sorry," he promised, nodding in understanding as his gaze fell to the ground. He almost felt like he was losing his mind, and he couldn't afford that. Not now.

Maggie's demeanor softened just a bit as she leaned against the doorsill, staring at her friend; this man she looked at as a big brother. He was obviously hurting, and it was nearly impossible not to feel sorry for him. But it was hard to support him when she was on her sister's side. "Go home, Rick. She'll talk to you when she's ready."

He looked up at her then, his face still red from the slap, his eyes still red from the sadness. "What if she's never ready?"

"You gotta trust her," she shrugged, shaking her head. And Maggie understood how hard that was, considering how liable Michonne was to completely shut down. But he didn't really have a choice. "Whatever you did, she needs time to get over it. She'll come to you when she's past it, but you can't force it on her."

"She didn't tell you what happened?"

"She implied a bit, but didn't confirm anythin'."

Rick nodded again, sobered by that bit of news. He knew she probably wouldn't tell Carl, but he all but wanted her to share it with her closest friend. He hated the idea of her keeping it to herself. Even surrounded by all these people, by family, she was still alone in this. "All right, I'm gonna go," he relented, already beginning to retreat. He would have to find some other way to reach her, it seemed. "Can you tell her I stopped by?"

Maggie quirked an eyebrow at him. "You sure you want me to do that?"

"No, maybe not," he tried and failed to smile. "Just take care of her, all right?"

"I will," she promised. "You take care of yourself." She offered him a half-smile as he turned to leave, and she stood in the doorway to watch, making sure he was really headed home, and not off toward Carl's. She couldn't stop him if he was, but she could at least warn Michonne if she needed to. Luckily, though, he went out toward the gates, looking ever-so-miserable as he did. She knew he was probably right to try and talk to Michonne, although probably wrong in just about everything else, but she also knew all too well that if they tried to push Michonne, she wouldn't budge. But perhaps she could give her a little nudge if the opportunity presented itself…

* * *

"Mommy, guess what."

Michonne gazed down at her daughter, the two of them strolling down the Hilltop hill with Glenn and his kids, back toward the house, Judith swinging her arm animatedly as they walked. She couldn't begin to imagine what she wanted her to guess, and her headache and nausea weren't doing much for her efforts, so she went ahead and simply asked, "What, sweetie?"

Judith grinned up at Michonne happily before making her announcement. "Carl got me a bike for Christmas!"

"A bike?" she gasped dramatically, feigning shock at the news. It was actually a gift from her and Rick – they'd come across it months ago, back when they were searching for baby furniture. She'd completely forgotten they asked Carl to hide it. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Because I saw it," she answered as if that were just the silliest question in the world. "Carl said it was a secret but you told me to never keep secrets from you and Daddy."

"That's right," she smiled at her, although inwardly, she was scolding Carl for apparently not knowing how to keep a secret himself. "You think you're ready to learn how to ride a bike?"

"I have to _learn_ how to ride it?" Judith asked, sounding nearly appalled by the idea. "Why?"

"Of course you have to learn. You think you're just gonna get on your bike and ride away?"

"Ummm. Yes?"

Michonne couldn't help but laugh at her answer, reminded of how much she was like her father in a lot of ways. "It takes practice," she advised, the two of them sidestepping a puddle of water. "I learned to ride my bike when I was your age and I must've fallen a hundred times before I got it right."

"What?" she exclaimed, gazing up at her mother. "I have to fall _a hundred times_?"

"Maybe not a hundred," she giggled at her continuing outrage. "But you will fall. And you'll get up and try again."

"A hundred times is a lot, Mommy."

"Yes, it is."

"Maybe we should just let Daddy teach me how to ride my bike."

"Oh," she laughed loudly in reply, genuinely amused by her kid's wit. She glanced back at Glenn, apparently enjoying their banter too, as he let out a quiet snicker at her expense. "I see how it is."

"You can be there too, Mommy!"

"Nope," she shook her head, pretending to be indignant on the matter. "You want your dad to teach you, then you got it."

"But I want you to come too," she pleaded with her, jumping along the leaf-covered trail as they continued to walk hand-in-hand. " _Please_ , Mommy."

"Nope."

" _Please_."

Michonne couldn't help but break out of character when she looked down at that adorable begging face, those big brown eyes peeking out from under her little pink beanie. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Cutie." She felt a sting at the back of her eyes, tears forming out of nowhere as she remembered that she and Rick were on this break. How they would have to coordinate some time for her to drive out to Alexandria so she could be there to see Judith learn to ride her bike, because she didn't want to miss any moment of her daughter's life. How Rick wouldn't want to miss moments either, like when she'd come home from school, and the two of them would talk about her day; or her reading to him every other night at bedtime, and everything else that made up their daily lives. She had yet to tell the little one what was going on, not wanting to ruin her good weekend, but it was hitting her hard already, so she could only imagine what it was going to do to a six-year-old. It was going to be quite the adjustment. For all of them.

"Mommy," Judith called out, shaking her mother from her thoughts, "when is Christmas?"

"It's in about a month," she replied. She turned back to Glenn again with a smile when she heard Hershel giggling at whatever conversation they were having behind her. "Do you remember how many days are in a month?"

"Thirty," she answered proudly. "And sometimes thirty-one. And February has twenty-eight days."

"You're a smart one, Judith Grimes."

"Miss Suzanne said that we don't really know what day it is because all of the clocks stopped working for a long, long time and the people had to start making up all of the days again."

"She said all that, huh," Michonne smirked, curious as to why a teacher would share that much information with kids just learning to tell time. She started to ask what else Miss Suzanne had been telling her, but a voice called her name, causing their conversation to cease. She turned to the sound, only to find Magna coming out of her home, just a few feet behind them, and she wondered if she was imagining things. Was this woman really calling for her? "Did you hear that?" she asked Glenn for verification.

"She called for you," he nodded, just as perplexed by the thought as she was.

Her confused grimace turned to a glare as she tried to guess what Magna could possibly want with her. She let out a sigh, but she wasn't going to make a scene by further ignoring her, so she stopped in her tracks with her daughter and looked to Glenn once more. "Would you mind taking her with you?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Hershel, take Judy's hand," he directed his son.

"I'll be right down," she promised, stepping out of the way to allow them to pass. And there was Magna, looking like an anxious child as she stood there with a backpack on her back, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her down jacket.

She offered Michonne a nervous smile as she stepped down from her doorstep. "Hey," she greeted her.

Michonne didn't respond with words, but a raised eyebrow was her salutation as she moved a bit closer to the woman's house. It was then she noticed a suitcase in the doorway as well.

"I'm getting ready to leave," she informed her with a nod. "I don't know if Glenn told you, but I thought it was best if I get out of here and give you some space," she said. "It would be silly to act like I don't know why you're here. So I just… I'm gonna go. The Sanctuary has been trying to get into trading with this group in Maryland, so I was gonna – since Jesus is still in Philly, I figured I could help with that. If that's okay with you."

She continued to simply peer at her, finding it curious that she was looking for her approval on something now. After years of interacting mostly with Rick, acting as though he was the only leader around.

"Anyway, umm," she shook her head, knowing she was rambling, sounding stupid at the most inconvenient moment. "Listen, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," she offered. She was shifting on her feet, unsure whether she was cold or just incredibly tense. "What happened wasn't… it wasn't intentional or malicious or anything. Rick was really just… sad, and I think he needed someone to confide in. And it shouldn't have been me. I know that. I even told him that. But a bigger part of me was really glad he did confide in me, and I took advantage of that sadness, because I have my own shit I deal with and I don't deal with it very well, apparently," she chuckled awkwardly. "But it was just bad. It shouldn't have happened, and I'm sorry that it did, and I'm sorry this is happening to your family because of it, and I feel like shit about having anything to do with it. I'm just… really, _really_ sorry."

Michonne stood there staring blankly at her for several beats. This woman that she'd done everything in her power to ignore was now forcing this apology on her, after interrupting time with her daughter, no less, and she didn't understand why she couldn't leave well enough alone. Michonne didn't need Magna to leave, so long as she left her alone. But she couldn't even do that. Didn't have the decency to just go; she had to make a show of it. She just had to make it known that she was being a good person here. Fuck her.

She took a deep breath before finally speaking, her cadence slow, her tone measured once the words came out. "Magna, I know you didn't seduce my husband," she started. "Rick has always been good at getting in his own way. But I don't believe for a _second_ that you're sorry about it. In fact, if he'd left me for you, I believe you would've been just fine taking my place." She narrowed her eyes on her, remembering all the times she allowed this woman to disrespect her very presence. "You've wanted him since we met," she recalled. "That day I invited you to my home, and you did an actual double take when Rick walked in. You and your cute little comments all the time. I saw it, ignored it, thinking I had nothing to worry about." She watched as Magna's eyes began to flit about, as she was obviously unprepared for this response. "I can't blame you for wanting him," Michonne went on. "Rick is good in most of the ways you want a man to be good. He's strong, but he's soft. He's smart, but he has a lot of heart. He'll do anything for anyone he loves, but especially his children. He does everything for his children. He's deadly, but somehow, very gentle. And god, he's a good fuck." She moved in closer to the woman then, knowing she was making her squirm. She hoped she remembered unbuckling her husband's belt and not getting any further. "And then we lie in bed and talk about… Shakespeare or stars or… whatever. He's not perfect, but he's good. And I can see why you would want that." She let out a sigh, the cold weather mixed with her warm breath causing a puff of air to leave her lips. She demanded Magna's gaze as she went on to say, "I can also see where you thought accosting me in order to 'apologize' was the right thing to do. But I don't buy it. I don't care. I actually wish you'd just left me alone, because I had every intention giving you that same courtesy. But since you've decided to further disrupt my life with your fake contrition, I want you to be clear that I don't accept, and you don't get to walk away from this feeling any better about yourself." And it was Michonne that walked away, not feeling better or worse, but unbothered as she left to rejoin her daughter.

* * *

"Knock, knock," Maggie announced her presence, tapping on the doorframe of Michonne's open bedroom. It was barely 6:00, but she looked to be already settled in for the night. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all," Michonne grinned, closing the book she'd been reading as a sleep-inducer. Something she'd picked up from Rick, apparently. "What's up?"

"Nothin' really," she shrugged. "I just haven't seen you all day. Been busy around here for a Sunday."

She patted an open spot on her bed, inviting her friend in for a visit. "Is that thanks to me?" she grimaced.

"Nah, most of it's been tryin' to find replacements for Magna's duties since she's leavin'," Maggie revealed, eyeing Michonne for a reaction. "Which I figured you'd like to know. Also why she was here last night."

"Oh, I am well aware," Michonne assured her, repositioning her body so that she sat cross-legged in front of Maggie. "She cornered me this morning to make it known that she was 'giving me space.'"

"Shut up," Maggie snorted. "Seriously?"

"I'm standing there freezing, I'm hungover, I don't even wanna _look_ at her, and she's going on and on," she rolled her eyes. "It took everything I had not to just throw up on her."

She laughed at the mere image, but shushed herself so as not to incite the kids to run in and ask what was so funny. "That would've been somethin'."

"Not like she wouldn't have deserved it."

Maggie gazed at her, wondering if now was the right time to ask and actually get an answer out of her. A nudge, so to speak. "So… you wanna tell me what she did, or no?"

"Maggie…"

"Fair enough," she held up her hands to surrender her nosy queries. "Besides that, how was your day?"

Michonne chewed at the inside of her cheek as she contemplated how the rest of her day had gone. It was certainly better than the previous few, but that wasn't saying much. "I told Judith we'd be staying here for a while without her dad."

"Oh god," Maggie winced. "She didn't cry, did she?"

"No," she scoffed. "She's just excited she gets to have endless sleepovers with Hershel."

Maggie chuckled, because of course that would be a six-year-old's response. "So why do you look like you wanna cry?"

"I just know she's gonna miss Rick soon," she shrugged glumly. "He can't leave for two days without her moping around the house."

Maggie took in her friend's sorrow, nodding understandingly. Understanding it maybe even better than Michonne in that moment. "Sounds like it runs in the family," she offered as a joke.

Michonne found herself frowning at the statement, but purposely decided not to respond, not wanting to delve any further into it. "How 'bout you? What have you been up to all day?" she yawned.

"Besides beatin' up your 'ex-husband,'" she said, apparently unable to stop herself from prying, "not so much. Took a long bath. I'm makin' pot roast for dinner, but I'm not really… hungry…" her sentence trailed off as she noticed Michonne looking at her like she had two heads. "What?"

"What do you mean, beating up my ex-husband? Rick?"

"I didn't really beat him up," she shook her head with a chuckle. "It was just a little smack."

"Maggie, tell me what you're talking about."

"When he came by this mornin'," she reminded her. "He tried to come in, yellin' for you and everythin', I just slapped some sense into him."

"Rick was here?" Michonne asked, feeling stupid for asking; it felt as though she was missing something obvious.

"I texted you about this hours ago, Michonne."

And there it was. She closed her eyes, feeling ridiculous - she was reaching Magna levels of density. "I haven't had my phone on all day," she smirked, standing from the bed to pick it up from the dresser.

"Here I thought you didn't answer because you were pretendin' not to care," Maggie laughed. "Yeah, he was here while y'all were at breakfast. Bein' loud and wrong, as men often are."

She snorted as she returned to the bed with her phone, and all the messages began to come in, most of which were from Rick, of course. "What'd he say?" she asked, her tone cautious.

"Not much besides wantin' to talk to you," she said. She studied Michonne's face as she scrolled through the messages, and she was glad that she didn't seem particularly annoyed by them. What a difference a day makes. "Maybe give him a call?" Another nudge.

She looked up at her with a knowing glint in her eye, resolutely responding, "No."

"I almost sent Glenn over to Alexandria to make sure he doesn't drown himself in a bottle of somethin'. But with him leavin' in the mornin'…"

"I'm glad you didn't," she answered distractedly, suddenly more focused on her phone than their conversation. One notification in particular, stating she had a voicemail that'd come in less than an hour ago, and it was several minutes long. And out of nowhere, she found herself suddenly _craving_ to hear his voice; unable to remember the last time they'd gone a full day without speaking. It was such a strange feeling, she was realizing, living a life without Rick. Her entire day had been full of little reminders of that. "You mind if I take a minute to listen to this?"

Maggie practically jumped up from the bed, willing to do anything that pointed her in the direction of at least talking to her husband. "Take your time," she said, already headed for the door. "I'm gonna check on dinner."

Michonne continued to stare at the message, trying to decide if she really wanted to listen. She wasn't ready to give in, and she knew that hearing his voice would probably soften her, at the least. Either that, or it would only make her angry, after she'd had a relatively peaceful, anger-free day. But she couldn't resist, not when she knew he'd been to Hilltop and she totally missed it. She missed him.

She decided to get on with it, pressing play on the most recent voicemail from him, and she put the phone to her ear. His raspy, southern drawl came through, saying her name in the way he did when he was particularly broken and couldn't fully get both syllables out. _M'chonne_.

She heard him sigh before he began to truly speak. " _I don't know why I keep callin' like this. I know you're not gonna pick up, even if you want to. You need your space, and I get that. I do. I don't wanna give it to you, I hate bein' away from you, but I get it. At a certain point, I was calling just to hear your voice on the message greeting. Turns out it's incredibly strange goin' a whole day without hearing it._ " She closed her eyes as she listened, somewhat amused that he'd read her mind, had the same thoughts she did, without even being in the same room. "I _know we've been apart longer than this, but this feels so much more final. Even back when you'd leave the prison for months at a time, I knew if I saw you again, things would be right where we left them. And now, I don't know about that... I don't think it's possible to go back to what we were. I get that, too. I ruined things in a way that they'll never be the same. But I've been thinkin' about it, and how to fix this, and I don't know about you, but I'd be okay with not going back. I think we stopped moving forward a while ago, and it's broken us. Or me, at least_." There was a shuffling sound in the phone, and she wondered what he was doing. Had he started to cry? She couldn't tell. " _I'm not fine, Michonne. I thought I was supposed to be and that's what I've been operating on, but I've been pretending. And so have you, I think. And it's eating away at us, this pain. It puts us to bed and it's waiting for us when we wake up. And we keep ignoring it, keep walkin' around like we don't notice it chasing us. We lost a child, and all I could get you to say about it was you were sorry. Like it was your fault or somethin'. You said you were relieved, but you never even told me, never even hinted that you were scared in the first place. And I missed it, because I was trying to do the same. And these aren't symptoms of two people that are fine. I couldn't see you because we both put on these masks, this… this façade of a perfect family. We lost somethin' for the first time in a long time, and you didn't know how to react. And neither did I. And I know it's my fault we've split this far. I know I hurt you even more because I was selfish in my sadness, and then I was stupid. I don't know how to prove to you that it'll never happen again, but I know I never want to hurt you like this. I know I'll never forget the look on your face when you said it felt like I was killing you. I could never..._ " He sighed again as his words trailed off, and she could tell he was crying for sure then. Which made her eyes do that stinging thing again, where she had very little control over whether those tears decided to spill. " _I know where I went wrong now. You ever have that, where you can pinpoint the exact moment it all went veering off course? Hindsight. I know. But it's so vivid in my mind, I was driving home one day, it was this cold, gray day, I was lost down by Richmond, and I wasn't sure when I would be home, and I was just feeling kinda down. And I thought about calling you just to talk, say what had been on my mind. I even had the phone in my hand. But I stopped myself. Said I could do it on my own. And if I had just… said somethin'._ " There was a long pause and Michonne found herself holding the phone closer to her ear, not wanting that to be the end of the message, wanting to hear more of his voice. " _Can't go back, though_ ," he sighed again, and another break in his speech followed, punctuated with a few sniffles. " _I will love you all my life, Michonne. I will spend every day of whatever time I've got left in this world trying to make up for what I've done. But I don't believe it's over. I don't accept it. Take your space, take your time. When we find our way back to one another, I want it to be when we're_ both _ready. And I'll wait. But there's no way in hell I'm givin' up on us without a fight._ "

As the message ended, Michonne stared at the phone, almost wishing there were more. Her finger dancing between the options to call back or delete it. His final words resounding in her ear like an echo. _There's no way in hell I'm giving up on us without a fight._ As much as she wanted to be annoyed that he, too, couldn't leave well enough alone, there was something reassuring in his persistence. She enjoyed his earnestness, especially after it seemed to have up and disappeared on her for a while. She appreciated the pure heartache in his voice. She heard _her_ Rick in that voicemail. And as she saved the message and set her phone aside to retrieve her book, the tiniest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.


	11. Daddy Lessons

"Daddy?"

Rick opened his eyes to the sound of his daughter's obviously sleepy voice and its inquisitive tone, drawing him out of his own quiet drift into slumber. The two of them were lying in his bed after what had been a perfect evening of homemade pizza and lively conversation. But after a week and a half of only seeing her father in two-day intervals, Judith wasn't done talking to him - not by a long shot. Rick was pretty sure she would talk all night if he let her. "Yeah, baby?" he asked, the exhaustion in his voice also apparent.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?"

"Of course," he yawned. In fact, he was hoping she'd stay curled up beside him, her arm clutching his neck as if she were scared to let him go. And maybe she was, he realized.

He lifted his head to glance at the lamp over on his nightstand, the brightness threatening to hinder their sleep. But he'd ended up on Michonne's side of the bed, too far to reach over and turn it off, so he continued to ignore it, not wanting to disturb Judith. He could just picture all the times they'd fallen asleep like this before, but with Michonne on the other side of them, her hand on Judith's back or her leg interlocked with his. It felt as though they were missing a limb.

"Daddy?" she called out to him again, her big, curious chestnut eyes gazing up at him when she felt him sigh.

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Can you tell me a story?"

"A story?" he repeated, figuring she'd want him to get up and find a book to read. It was almost 10:00, and she had school in the morning, but he would do it if it was what she really wanted. "What do you wanna hear?"

She thought for a moment, through all the tales she'd heard about her adventurous life, all before she could remember anything. It was how she learned about Lori and Tyreese being the reason she was alive; how they used to live in another state, in a prison, where she was born, and Maggie's little sister took care of her, and her nickname was Lil' Asskicker. She learned everything she needed to know about her life in those stories, and loved hearing them over and over again. "Can you tell me the story about when Carl named me?"

"Oh, you want that kinda story," he chuckled. Another yawn came out as Judith's fingers picked at the hair of his beard, tickling his face. "All right, well it was the day after you were born, and Glenn and Maggie left the prison to try and find some food for you."

"Uncle Glenn and Aunt Maggie," she interrupted to correct him.

"Yes," he granted with a small nod. "But. There were some bad people hangin' around near the prison that we didn't know about it. So they kidnapped Aunt Maggie and Uncle Glenn, and they took them back to their home-"

"And Mommy saw it all," Judith added, her voice showing signs of both fatigue and excitement. "And she brought my baby food to the prison for me even though she was sick."

Rick laughed at her enthusiasm, but even more so, her apparent unwillingness to wait until he could finish a sentence. "Do you wanna tell the story?"

"So then you let Mommy inside and she told you about the Governor, and he had an eye patch like Carl, but he was _bad_. And he took Aunt Maggie and Uncle Glenn and he wanted to take away the prison from us, so you and Mommy had to go get them."

"Uh huh," he coerced her to go on.

"But I didn't have a name yet!"

"That is correct," he laughed again. She told this story like she'd heard it a million times. And she probably had. "You didn't have a name, and Carl didn't wanna let me leave before we gave you one."

"And Carl had been thinking about names all day long," she went on to explain, adding a new twist to the tale, "and he said he wanted to name me after his third grade teacher."

"And we did."

"And then you and Mommy left and Aunt Carol and Carl took care of me and you saved Aunt Maggie and Uncle Glenn. And... the end."

"You somehow know more than I remember telling you," Rick joked, using his free hand to squeeze her foot.

"Carl told me about it too," she grinned. "He said that was when Mommy didn't like me."

Rick laughed heartily, the way she said it so nonchalantly was quite funny, but he hoped that she was somehow lying about that bit of information. "He did not tell you that."

"Uh huh," she insisted. "Because Andre died, and Mommy was still sad."

Rick cleared his throat, suddenly feeling silly, or more accurately, feeling shitty for forgetting that phase of Michonne's life. When she was so wracked with grief, she couldn't even acknowledge Judith's existence. She was so far gone, she couldn't be around people for too long, always scared of getting close. Of course that broke her. Perhaps not in the way he imagined a broken person, but he knew she'd been hurt all the same. And he'd completely ignored that so he could wallow in his own pain.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Judith wondered, having noticed her father gone silent, even though his eyes were still open.

He shook his head of the sad thoughts consuming him. "Mommy's had a hard life," he said, his eyes welling with tears. He'd spent so much of their time together trying to make it easier on her, and now, he'd just added to the bad parts. "It makes me sad sometimes."

"Oh." She gently patted his cheek, the way her parents did whenever she would cry. "But Mommy is happy now," she assured him.

Rick offered a small smile in response, his hand running over one of her beautifully French braided pigtails, tracing the crisscross pattern with the pad of his index finger. His thoughts wandered as he stared at her hair, knowing he would never be able to duplicate it in the morning. His hairstyling knowledge extended to ponytails and buns, which never looked quite as good as when Michonne did them either. He would have to remember to wake up thirty minutes earlier so that he could do her hair.

"Daddy, how come Mommy doesn't come home with us anymore?" she questioned, pulling him back out of his trivial musings.

He sighed deeply at the question, knowing that on some level, Judith probably understood that that was why he was so sad. "Well," he said, beginning to turn on his side so that the two of them would be face to face, "she wanted some time to hang out at Hilltop with your brother and Aunt Maggie."

"And you wanted to stay here?" she frowned, her nose scrunching up at the thought.

"I need to stay here," he nodded slightly, "yeah."

She nodded back, her small fingers exploring her father's face, smiling at the way his beard tickled the palm of her hand as she rubbed at its prickly surface.

"Do you like it at Hilltop?" he asked, closing his eyes as her fingers playfully squeezed his face.

"Uh huh," she said, distracted by her task. "I get to see Hershel every single day now."

"You do."

"He's my best friend," she added happily.

Rick smiled fully then, relieved to hear that his daughter was still happy, and for the most part, none the wiser about what was going on between her parents. "I thought I was your best friend," he teased her.

"Daddy," she giggled at his blatant silliness. "You're too old to be my best friend."

"Too old?" He clutched his heart, pretending to be hurt by the claim. "Ouch."

"You should be Mommy's best friend," she reminded him, lightly slapping at his face again, enjoying the sound it made when her fingers hit his skin.

"You're right," he smirked, once again thinking of how he'd failed to be that for her. For years, he was her person. It shouldn't have been a surprise she wasn't sharing her pain with Maggie - this would be something she normally shared with him. They had friends, of course, but their problems were always saved for one another. Judith was absolutely right, he should be her best friend. He should've been. And going forward, he would be. "We should go to sleep," he told her, looking her in the eye. "You don't wanna be tired when you see Mommy tomorrow."

Judith nodded, letting her hand fall from her father's face so that it rested on his neck again. She liked that she could feel his heartbeat when they laid completely still. "Goodnight, Daddy."

He leaned in to give her forehead a soft kiss, his thumb gently brushing at her temple as the two of them went quiet in their journeys back toward sleep. "G'night, sweetheart."

* * *

Rick stood nervously at Maggie's front door, remembering what happened the last time he rang her doorbell looking for Michonne. This time, Judith was at his side, and he was supposed to actually be there, so he had no reason to be anxious, but he was. This would be his first time seeing Michonne in over a week - the longest they'd gone without interacting since 2012 - and his stomach was in knots. Judith held tightly to his hand, as if she knew he was uneasy, the two of them staring at the door, waiting for what felt like forever for an answer. He was surprised when the outside light flickered on and the door swung open to reveal Michonne standing there, as if she lived there. "Hey," he greeted her, grinning awkwardly.

She briefly returned the smile, but quickly diverted her attention to the little one between them, holding her arms out to accept the hug headed her way as her daughter leaped toward her.

"Mommy!" she yelled, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hey, jellybean," she cooed back. She pulled off Judith's hat in order to get a good look at her face, and she affectionately ran her hands over her hair. "I missed you."

"I wish you were at home, Mommy, we had pizza for dinner _and_ for breakfast today!"

"You did, did you?" Michonne questioned, eyeing Rick as Judith moved to pull off her jacket. He looked so tired and run down, she decided not to question him any further on the matter as he handed over her backpack. "Thank you for picking her up," she told him. "I know that wasn't what we agreed to."

"Whatever you need," he nodded, biting at his lip as he watched her continue to interact with Judy. She looked so beautiful, he thought, with her endless locs pulled into a ponytail so that her face was the only thing to focus on. She said she wasn't feeling well, but she looked perfect to him. Her dark skin was almost shimmering under the light of the chandelier above them.

Michonne noticed his stare and felt uncomfortable beneath it. In seeing him for the first time in a while, she realized she was still unable to see past the veneer of his infidelity, unable to stop thinking about someone else kissing those lips he was so nervously chewing at. So she looked at Judith again, accepting her coat as she passed it to her. "Say goodbye to your dad," she gently directed her.

"Do you have to leave?" she asked, gazing up at her father with a serious set of puppy dog eyes.

That heartbreaking pout of hers made Rick's stomach turn, and he kneeled down in front of her so they were eye to eye. "I'll see you in just a couple of days, sweetheart."

"But I wanna see you now."

Rick exhaled shakily, rubbing his eyes, as he had to force himself not to cry, knowing it would only make her do the same. "Come here," he said, gesturing for her to hug him. She did just that, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he stood again, holding onto her as tightly as he could. "I need you to be a big girl, okay," he whispered. "It's just two sleeps before I see you again."

"But then I won't see you again for two more sleeps," she said, her voice weakening as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. "I want you to be with us."

Michonne looked on, the sight of Judith clinging to her father nearly killing her. She covered her eyes with her hand to hide the fact that she was the one who couldn't hold back her tears.

"It'll be over soon," he promised, rubbing softly at her back. "Just hold on for a little while longer." He glanced at his wife, seeing this was obviously taking its toll on her too, and he shook his head. If this was what life was like after divorce, he was clearer than ever that he didn't want this for his family. This was torture. "Can you be a big girl for me?"

She nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent as she continued to clutch his neck. "Two more sleeps?"

"Tonight and tomorrow," he promised. "Remember you have Hershel here," he said, wishing she was as happy now as she was when she spoke of him the night before.

"And I have Mommy," she knew. "But I want you to be here, too. You don't have anybody."

"I'll be okay," he said, forcing himself to swallow his feelings before he broke completely. He kissed Judith's cheek and reluctantly set her back down on the floor. "I'll see you soon."

Michonne wiped her tears and came to stand behind Judith as she stared at Rick. She knew this wasn't easy on him, being away from his daughter, because it wasn't easy on her, and she appreciated his efforts to maneuver through it with her. "Go on upstairs and get ready for your bath," she told Judith, playing with the ends of her pigtails. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Okay, Mommy," she said, waving at Rick one more time before taking off.

He watched his daughter scurry up the steps, wanting so badly to be there when she came back down. But he let it go, knowing he would be able to see her again soon, and he looked to Michonne. "You all right?" he asked, having noticed her tears.

"You can't tell her it's gonna be over soon," she quietly scolded him. "You don't know that."

"I do know that."

"Rick…"

"Look, I told you, I understand why you need space. But I know you, Michonne, even if I forgot it for a while, and I know you're not gonna break up this family."

Her eyes narrowed on him, and she found herself glaring at him for having the gall to say such a thing. Particularly considering how well she thought she knew him, and she had obviously been wrong about that. "People change," she replied with raised eyebrows. "And let's be clear – _I_ didn't break up this family."

"Well how much longer do you think you can go without talkin' to me?"

"I don't know, however long it takes for me to stop imagining you cryin' on Magna's shoulder when you should've been talking to _me_ in the first place."

Rick let out a small sigh, understanding that he didn't have much room to object to anything here. He was still very much at her mercy. He began to twiddle his fingers, fidgeting with his wedding ring as he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he offered in earnest. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with her.

"I know." It was Michonne's turn to stare back at him now, this being the first time they were in the same room in so long. She hated it, not knowing what he looked like, what he was wearing on any given day. She was so disconnected from him. Which was the point, of course, but she certainly didn't have to like it. She noticed his beard had gotten thicker and grayer in their short time apart, his sideburns bushier. His curls weren't quite so curly, as though he'd been asleep, or at least lying down, for some part of the evening. His eyes said the same, the blue of his irises less clear than usual. Perhaps taking care of Judith on his own had given him a run for his money. It was certainly no cakewalk for her, and she at least had Maggie's help if she needed it. "You look terrible," she said, her clipped tone finally softening as she tilted her head. "Are you eating?"

"Yeah," he nodded, giving her that clumsy smile again. "We had pizza for breakfast."

She swallowed, feeling sickened by just the thought. "Right."

"They were made from bagels," he added, though unsure whether that even mattered. "She had fun."

"I can see that," Michonne nodded, frowning as she thought of how much Judith didn't want to leave her dad.

"She'll be okay," he tried to assure her. It was more of a hope than a promise, because he couldn't imagine breaking his little girl's heart every time he had to leave this way. But she was a Grimes, and they were nothing if not resilient.

She nodded again, inwardly praying he was right. "So do you wanna pick her up from school Friday, or… I can bring her to you…"

Rick gazed back at her, wanting to take any excuse he could to see her again. If she had to come back to Alexandria - back _home_ \- maybe she would be tempted to stay. But he shook his head, knowing that he couldn't force or trick her into reconciliation. It would have to happen when she was ready for it to happen. "I'm gonna be over at The Kingdom anyway on Friday, so I can pick her up."

"Okay," she whispered. She felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment, but it was overwhelmed by the sense of relief that she wouldn't have to see him again so soon. Something about standing there with him made her feel unsettled. Uncertain. Unstable. She was finally finding her bearings without him, but her dueling thoughts - on the one hand, missing him; on the other, still hurt by him - had her feeling a bit lost. "Well, I should get upstairs."

He nodded back. He detected the aroma of dinner in the background, and wondered if it was her cooking. It smelled like her lemon garlic chicken, but perhaps he was just being nostalgic. "So I guess I'll call you… Friday."

"Friday morning," she confirmed.

"Or if you need me to pick her up again before then…"

"I should be all right, but I'll let you know."

He bit at his lip again, wishing there were some way to cap off the moment other than just turning around and walking out of the door. He wanted to hug her, or better yet, kiss her, the way they did before. They never parted ways without some physical contact. And now, nothing. Just awkward nodding, and uncomfortable distance between them, the way they'd interacted back at the prison. "I'll see you around then," he croaked out, his eyes begging hers to give him anything more.

"Sunday," she agreed, offering nothing else. She'd been without practice for a few years, but the last few months had reminded her how to shut down her feelings again, and it was proving useful in that moment.

Rick took the cue, and turned out of the door, Michonne following behind him to lock it. Her fingers lingering on the panel as if it were his chest, which she'd been fighting the urge to touch as he stood there. She peered through the door window, watching his bowlegged gait until it disappeared into the darkness, and she let out a sigh. She quickly headed off to the kitchen to turn off the oven, and then paused, considering grabbing a quick drink on her way upstairs. It had been more than a week since she'd consumed any alcohol, but seeing Rick again, it made her want to. Itching for something to block out all the emotions that surfaced when he was back in her midst. But she had a sad kid upstairs, waiting for her mother, and now wasn't the time to get lost in her own feelings. She quickly shook away those thoughts and continued upstairs to give Judith a bath.

* * *

Back outside, Rick had made the trek back toward his car, making plans with himself to drive over to Carl's side of the Hilltop to check in on him, as he often did. But as he reached the parking lot, the figure of his son standing in front of their Lexus was a welcome surprise, given the shitty night he was having. "I was just comin' to see you," Rick greeted him. He removed his hands from the pockets of his jacket, preparing to embrace his son, but the solemn look on his face stopped him. "What is it?"

"I tried to wait this out," Carl said, leaning against the hood of the black SUV. "I thought maybe this was like some extended Thanksgiving vacation thing, and things would go back to normal." He glared at his dad, the one eye he had left expressing his disdain for whatever the situation was. More so, for the fact that he no idea what the situation was. "Mom's been here for ten days now. Please tell me what the hell is going on."

"Eleven," Rick mumbled, his gaze fixated on the torn dead leaves dotting the ground between them.

"What?" he frowned.

"It's been eleven days," he repeated. "That's how long Michonne's been here."

"Well great," Carl sighed. "Eleven days where the two of you haven't told me shit except that you're working some things out. If you guys are breaking up, I _need_ you to tell me."

Rick stared at his boy, completely lost as to what to say. He had already fucked this up once, and he was loath to do it again. How much should he tell him? How much would Michonne tell him? She was always more open with Carl than most people, but she obviously hadn't shared this. "What did Michonne say?"

"She told me to ask you," he replied pointedly.

He sighed, feeling like he was taking some test he was doomed to fail. "It's cold," he said, nodding toward the car. "Get in."

Begrudgingly, Carl followed his dad's lead and went around to the passenger side of the vehicle to hop in, though not before having to move a giant stack of newspapers from the front seat to the back. "Why are you collecting old newspapers," he questioned him, beginning to wonder if his old man was losing his mind. Again.

"It's a thing I'm doin' with Judith," he answered casually, waiting until his son got situated before turning on the car. His fingers nervously gripped the wheel as he realized he was going to just tell his kid the truth. Lying was what got him here in the first place, and he wasn't going to do that again. As he'd told Michonne, he was tired of hiding, not just from her but from everyone. And maybe she would be upset by this too, but it was a chance he was willing to take if it meant taking off this mask. He let out a sharp exhale before turning to his son, the enclosed space making him feel like he was in a confessional. "I, um… I almost had sex with someone else," he revealed.

Carl's gaze widened into a mixture of shock and anger, his cold hands balling into fists as he scowled at his father. "What?"

"I kissed her," he appended. "It went a bit further, but not much." He could see Carl wanted to interject, but he kept going, "But worse than that, I told her things that I shouldn't have said. About myself, and about our family."

"Like what?" he demanded.

Rick rubbed at his face, his tired eyes especially, thinking about how difficult it was to have this conversation twice. "I didn't talk to your mom about the miscarriage," he explained. "I never said how I was feeling, maybe because I didn't want to admit I was feeling anything. But I told this other woman. I told her about Michonne losing her son…"

Carl pressed his head against the headrest, in disbelief that this was happening. Not only that his dad could do this, but that no one had bothered to tell him. "What the fuck," he muttered to himself. "Why would you…"

"I - I ask myself that everyday," he sputtered, shaking his head. "I was just… feeling sorry for myself."

He immediately scoffed in response. "So you ruin your marriage because you were feeling sorry for yourself?"

"It obviously wasn't my intention. But I handled it all badly. I lied to Michonne, for my own selfish reasons, until it turned into this."

Carl sat silent for a while, just staring out of the car at the Hilltop gates before them. He'd seen his dad through a lot of fuck-ups in their post-apocalyptic lives, but this had to take the cake. Because all his other missteps were in trying to protect someone, if not, all of them. This was just unexplainable. "Who was it?"

Rick didn't even want to say her name, but if he was going to tell the truth, he had to tell it all. "It was Magna."

"Well that makes sense," he sarcastically noted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he wondered, looking over at him.

"Well she was basically in love with you," he rolled his eyes. "Not like Mom is, but like in that way where someone will do whatever you want as long as it keeps you talking them."

Rick closed his eyes, understanding that that probably was true about Magna. It was more than just a harmless crush, as he tried to frame it in his mind, and he'd taken advantage of that in his moment of crisis. Something else to add to his list of offenses. "I fucked up," he said, resting his head against his own headrest, staring at the side of his kid's face. The heat had just finally begun to blow warm air, but he still felt colder than ever. "I broke her heart."

"I knew things were off at Thanksgiving," Carl recalled. "When she said you guys had things to work through, I just never fucking imagined it would be this."

"I know."

"After the miscarriage, I thought about moving home," he intimated quietly. "I thought you guys might need me, or our family should be together or something. I dunno. But then you guys seemed okay, so I let it go."

"That was where the cracks formed," Rick exhaled. "I think."

Carl nodded, though he couldn't help but wonder if the rupture between them had anything to do with him moving out. Neither of them took it particularly well, although Michonne tried to be logical about it. But he had always been the bridge between them, from the very beginning, to even now, when they would use him to settle silly arguments. He'd significantly changed the family dynamic by leaving.

"It's not about you," Rick said, seemingly reading Carl's mind in the moment. "It's not about Judith, or some other outside force, like Magna. Michonne and I just have to talk more, communicate better. Somewhere along the line, we forgot how to do that."

"That was what Lori used to say," Carl smirked as he thought of his first mom. She was always so desperate for his dad to confront their problems, and he never would. "For as long as I could remember, she wanted you to talk more."

Rick nodded, recalling that all too well. He thought he'd been doing better, but alas… "Turns out, I just married someone who can be as bad at talkin' as I am."

"You guys always talked with those stupid nods," he chuckled lightly. "It drove me crazy."

"We were in war zones. We had to."

"But the war's been over for a while," he reminded him.

"I know," Rick whispered, turning to look out of the window again. A few flurries of snow were whirling around, and he wondered if Michonne was seeing it. She loved when it snowed, and would literally watch it for hours when she could. He found himself hoping she could be back home by the time there was enough to stick to the ground. "I'm workin' on it," he submitted to Carl, his tired blue eyes begging his son to believe in him.

He scanned his dad's face, finally understanding the veil of sadness that had covered it in recent weeks. The gray hair that usually made him looked distinguished only made him look old now; the laugh lines near his eyes did the same. His dad looked depressed, and he hated that just as much as he hated what he'd done.

Carl sighed heavily, unsure what to do with this information. Now he regretted wanting it so badly in the first place. Because now he was just sad and a little bit mad, and felt like the same helpless kid that watched his dad's first marriage fall apart. "I hope you are working on it, because I don't even wanna imagine a world where you guys aren't together," he said, the frown not leaving his face. "I always thought you and my mom were just so different and not right for each other," he went on, referring to Lori, "and that's why you guys couldn't work it out. But you and Michonne are perfect together. Like, I look up to you guys in every way imaginable, so I just… I dunno. It really sucks that you did this, Dad." He rested his hand on the door handle, contemplating whether to make his dad feel any worse than he obviously already did. "I know it was a mistake or whatever, but Michonne deserves better than this."

"I know, Carl." He felt like a broken record at that point.

"Do you know?" he continued to chide him. "Because you have a track record of ruining things, and I don't want her to be next on the list."

Rick swallowed visibly, blinking back tears, as his son's words, mixed in with all the pangs of guilt felt like stabs to his neck and chest. He could hear Shane yelling something similar, could see Lori looking at him disappointedly. "I don't either," he agreed, his voice thin and covered in regret. He watched as Carl began to open the door to leave, and Rick reached out, but stopped short of touching his arm. He only spoke in that same quiet, unconfident voice. "I can drive you back," he offered tentatively. Carl's side of the complex was quite a walk, and he just wanted a little bit more time with his boy. It felt as though his family was slipping through his fingers in that moment.

"I'm not going home," he declined.

Rick nodded, figuring he was probably headed to see Michonne and Judith, because that was who Carl was – he was good, despite everything the world had done to make him something else. He was like Michonne in that way. And he was glad that she'd have him to lean on if she needed to. Someone she couldn't hide from. "All right."

With another sigh, he hopped out of the car, but he made sure not to just walk away and leave his dad stewing in his own misery. He turned and lowered his head just enough to peek into the car, letting Rick know, "You're an asshole, but I love you, Dad."

He attempted a smile, though it showed more in his eyes than it did on his lips, but it did move him in a way that he very much needed. He watched as Carl trudged back inside the gates, and his heart was heavy, but he wasn't discouraged. Yes, he was going home alone, but his family was safe, and they were together, and for now, he could take that as a win.


	12. Nine Times Outta Ten, I'm In My Feelings

Another two weeks had gone by in Rick and Michonne's separation, which made it three in total since she left her home. When she wrote that letter, she didn't really imagine they'd be apart for so long. A couple of weeks, she figured, would be enough to allow her to see clearly again, to not go around living in this cloud of anger. And that did happen, she noticed – she wasn't angry these days. The hurt had subsided into numbness. But she didn't feel _better_. She didn't feel ready to see him, and live with him, and put it all back together. If anything, her small journey of self-discovery, and living her life without Rick, it helped her realize that she was quite adept at getting along without him. Things with Judith still weren't exactly easy, and single parenthood even more difficult, but she had never shied away from anything difficult before. If she really wanted to, she could do it. She knew that. Three weeks sober, she was getting by.

The thing was, that's all it was. Getting by. She didn't _like_ it. She didn't enjoy coming home to this unfamiliar space – someone else's space – to try and pretend that her life was anywhere near good. That she didn't miss her husband with every breath, every step. Going to bed alone, waking up the same. Rick was right when he said that pain followed them around like a ghost. It was stalking her. Loneliness. Emptiness. She would not allow that to be the reason she gave in, but she could admit to herself that she was feeling it, at least.

And Michonne considered all of this as she sat on Dr. Harlan Carson's exam table, watching as he drew blood from the inside of her elbow for testing. After nearly a month of feeling shitty, and not being able to chalk it up to a hangover, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but nowadays, seeing a doctor was about the only way to get confirmation.

"So I'm sure you'll remember how this goes," Harlan began to explain as he turned to his desk to label Michonne's vial. "For you, I'd like to do an extra test on both Monday and Wednesday, and I should have a pretty firm result for you by Friday."

She nodded, indeed remembering the drill from when she'd done it back in May, and then again in August. A sense of dread washed over her as she thought about how it all ended, and somehow, led her right back to this place, despite the dramatically different circumstances. She sighed as the doctor turned back to her. "What's the likelihood of another miscarriage?" she asked, trying to quiet at least one of the questions shouting at her from inside her head. She stared at him intently, begging him to say that the last pregnancy would have no bearing on this one.

"It's hard to say," he admitted, refusing to grant her silent request. "We thought you were in the clear with the other, so I don't wanna give you false hope this time, y'know?"

"Just be honest with me."

"Honestly? If you're pregnant, you're gonna _have_ to slow it down, Michonne. I need it to be a low stress, hang around the house, come in for an appointment every week kinda thing."

She scoffed at the idea of low stress. Even without her family problems, she had a life to live, a job to do. In fact, once the new year rolled around, she had every intention of starting on a new project. "And what if I don't…" She frowned as she realized what she was about to ask. "I mean, if I don't intend to keep it, how long do I have?"

Dr. Carson did his best to hide his surprise at the question, considering how excited she and Rick had been the last time. But he could imagine that after dealing with a miscarriage, a couple may not want to go through that again. "We'll have to figure out how far along you are first, but my cutoff is twelve weeks. Which I'd say, you're nowhere near."

"It's not that that's my plan," she said, noticing the change in his tone. "I just wanna know what my options are."

He nodded.

"I'm sure you've noticed that Rick and I aren't… together right now," she added hesitantly, hating to say the words out loud. But at that point, Michonne was certain that everyone at Hilltop was aware. And Alexandria was likely no different, so the news had probably spread to the other communities as well. Their dirty little secret was out, no point in pretending otherwise. "So whenever we speak about this, I'd just like to have all the information."

He cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with all the information being dropped in his lap. "I… actually just thought Rick had gone on the trip with Glenn."

"Oh." She deflated a bit, feeling silly for making the assumption. "Well, things are… uncertain right now. So I had to ask."

"Life always is," he offered with a comforting smile. "Let's just see where if you are first, and we'll go from there."

Michonne nodded back, although the idea of waiting nearly a week for the results was going to be rough. Along with everything else on her plate, plus Christmas being around the corner, she wasn't sure where to put it all. "I'll see you Monday then." She quickly worked out what time she could be back to Hilltop after dropping off Judith at school. "Is eight-thirty okay?"

"That's perfect." He watched as she hopped down and grabbed her coat, and the sadness in her expression seemed more apparent, or perhaps, more understood, now that he knew what was going on with her. He stopped her before she could walk out of the door. "Michonne, I hope this isn't out of line to say," he started, "but I do hope you and Rick are able to work out whatever it is."

She half-smiled at the encouraging word as she pulled the door open, though she also didn't know what to say in response. The truth, she supposed. "I do, too."

Michonne continued out of the house Dr. Carson used for his office, and looked out to the busy compound – it was always so lively at Hilltop, no matter the weather. The day had turned gloomy with gray clouds covering the sky, which seemed only appropriate, considering everything else she had going on. Still, she smiled when she noticed Maggie, walking back toward the house with her kids. Her friend looked so genuinely happy with them, even with Glenn gone. Perhaps because she knew he would be back soon. But she envied that joy Maggie had. She wished she felt it herself, and not the manufactured version she had to put on when Judith was around. Her daughter made her happy, of course, but she no longer experienced _joy_. That uncontainable feeling you have when life is better than it is worse. No, she didn't have that anymore. And now, at the exact wrong moment, she had to grapple with whether to bring a baby into the messy fold. Everything was just so fucked up.

"Mom," Carl called out for her from the porch of the doctor's home. He'd watched her walk right by him, wondering how long it would take for her to notice him sitting there, but she was already headed down the steps without a word. She had been uncharacteristically distracted as of late.

Startled, she turned to the sound of her son's voice, feeling like she'd been caught in a lie she hadn't even told. He had his arms folded over his chest, staring her, not angrily, but in what seemed to be disappointment. "Hey," she frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I kinda wanted to ask you the same thing," he said, picking himself up from the wicker chair. "Are you sick?"

"I haven't been feeling great," she answered as vaguely as she could. "I was worried I might be coming down with the flu."

Carl only continued to look at her, unsure whether he should press her any further then. He certainly didn't want to make her feel any worse. "What'd the doctor say?"

"He's not sure. Wants to keep an eye on me for the week," she nodded, glancing back up at the house in order to avoid his questioning stare. "How did you even know I was here?"

"Jesus told me."

For a moment, she thought he was being sarcastic, but quickly realized he was referring to their friend. "I didn't realize he was back."

"Yeah," he sighed. He stepped down from the porch to join her, and the two of them began the short stroll back toward the Rhee's home. "You've kinda been missing a lot lately."

Michonne glanced over at him, a small, confused scowl on her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm worried about you," he answered bluntly. "And I know you told me not to, but that's not really how this works."

She reached out to caress his back, hating that she'd done anything to concern him. "I'll be fine," she promised. "It's just been—"

"It hasn't _just_ been anything," he cut her off. "It's been Dad, it's been Judith, now you might be sick or something. It's a lot. It's too much for one person, and I've been watching you around here for the past two weeks, walking around like this… I dunno, you're like a ghost or something. You're not Michonne." He paused to collect his thoughts, because he knew he was sounding angry at her, and he wasn't. "It's scary," he continued, softening his tone. "And it's frustrating, because I feel like you're doing this to yourself at this point. You ran away to this place, and you're not facing it, and that's not any better than what Dad did."

Michonne cut her eyes in his direction, offended that he would say such a thing. Not wanting to face the problem Rick created was nowhere in the same league as being a liar. Was it? But then, maybe she was a liar, too. It was hard to say anymore. She wanted to interject, but realized she had nothing to say, so she simply gestured for him to take a seat on steps of Maggie's home, and she did the same, waiting for him to go on.

"I get why you're mad," Carl submitted quietly. "I am, too. I haven't even talked to him since he told me." And for someone who talked to his dad just about every day, that was a big deal for Carl. "But at a certain point, who are you even punishing? Him? Or yourself?"

"This isn't about punishment," she was quick to retort. "I wish it were that simple. But in all sincerity, I can't even look at your dad without feeling like I'm being punched in the stomach."

He nodded sympathetically, but he couldn't allow that to be her excuse. "Do you think that's gonna go away the longer you avoid him?"

After a long pause, she shook her head, her voice breaking as she forced herself to answer, "I don't know, Carl. I feel like I don't know anything anymore."

"I think you know more than you're letting on," he countered, still careful to keep his voice low. "I think you know that Dad loves you, and he wants to make it right. And maybe you don't know if he can, but you know that if you let him in, there's a big chance he will. I think that's why you keep yourself busy, that's why you won't talk about it with me or Maggie, because you know if you think about it for too long, you'll forgive him, because you love him, too."

"Carl," she sighed shakily. This was why she didn't tell him what was going on. Last thing she needed was someone else trying to force her into a solution, when she just needed to time to accept the problem. "I need more time."

"You don't _have_ more time, Mom. Judith is wondering what the hell is going on with her family. Christmas is in a week, and what's that gonna look like when you won't even talk to Dad? People are already asking questions. It's gonna only get worse." He watched as she buried her head in her hands, and it was clear that he'd done what he didn't mean to do, and made her feel worse. But he also knew she would've done the same for him. "You didn't baby me when I lost my eye. When I lost my mom, you didn't let me be an asshole about it," he reminded her. "You said I brought you back, but… you did the same thing for me. So no more bullshit," he appended, intentionally mimicking her words to him at the time he needed to hear it most. "You _have_ to talk to him."

Michonne inhaled sharply and exhaled the same, swallowing back her tears as she looked over at her boy. He was right, of course, but that didn't make her want to accept it any more. She was just so terrified of what would happen if they talked and it didn't resolve anything. What if she didn't feel any differently? Or worse, what if she did? This talk could be the final nail in the coffin, and she wasn't quite ready to get confirmation one way or the other. But Carl was right. Maggie was right. Rick was right. She would have to face this sooner or later. "I will," she promised, running her fingers through the ends of his much-too-long locks. "I will."

* * *

It was the next afternoon when Michonne pulled up to the gates of Alexandria for the first time since the last time, and she was pleasantly surprised to see the entryway adorned with two giant red bows in celebration of Christmas. Glad that someone else had taken on the duty with her being gone. She smiled warmly at the sight, and it only grew wider as Eric came running out of the guard booth to greet her. "Hey," she called out to him.

"Hey, stranger," he sent back, approaching the car to give her a one-armed hug through the window. "I saw that grey Bimmer pop up on the monitor, and I said, 'That can't be Michonne, can it?' We were starting to think you'd left for good."

"Well," she shrugged awkwardly, unsure of what to say, "my clothes are still here, so…"

"It's really good to see you."

She nodded, wishing she could tell him she was there to stay. "I don't think I'll be _too_ long, so you don't have to do the full lockup just yet," she revealed, referring to the gate he was manning.

"Oh." He tried to hide his frown with a nod of his own, and turned for said gate. "Well then… I should probably let you get inside, huh?"

"Hey, tell Aaron I said Hi," she asked, not wanting to end their encounter on a dour note. "I've missed you guys."

"Of course." He left her with a comforting pat on the arm and a grin to match, before quickly running off to unlock the gate for his leader and neighbor. Or perhaps she was his ex-neighbor now.

Michonne gave him a grateful wave as she headed inside, and her eyes immediately zoomed in on her home at the end of the block. She let out an exhale of… something as she took it in. It wasn't relief, but something like it. Like when you've been holding your breath, and you finally get to release it. Seeing her home gave her that feeling. She pulled up in the spot behind Rick's car, and simply stared for a moment. Everything looked almost exactly the way she'd left it, save for the white Christmas lights that decorated the windows, the front doors, and the porch. Again, she was happy to see that life went on without her. Rick was just as capable of running a household as she was, and he hadn't let his feelings get in the way of taking care of their daughter or their home. He was so much stronger than he thought himself to be.

She was slow to get out of the car, her body aching in places she'd forgotten about as she headed up the long walkway. She was already pulling her keys from her coat pocket, but stopped herself, not wanting to intrude. It was her house, but for three weeks, it hadn't been, and so maybe just walking in wasn't fair. She knocked on the door instead, waiting with bated breath for an answer. It was so strange, so off-putting, having to be let into her own home, as if she didn't belong there.

The answer eventually came in the form of Judith, fully dressed up in a wool houndstooth dress and tights, as if she were headed somewhere other than back to the farm that was Hilltop. Michonne smiled at her, completely taken aback by the attire. "Well look at you," she cooed, also taking note of the very elegant bun on top of her head.

"Mommy!" she practically yelled, but didn't take time to give her a hug, as she had something much more important to show her. "Look at this," she directed, giving her mother the widest grin she could muster as she stuck her finger in her mouth to wiggle the loose bottom tooth she'd recently discovered. "Daddy said it's gonna fall out!"

"Wow, your first loose tooth," Michonne marveled. She got down on her knees to examine it, which Judith was all too happy to show off, and she found that she was rather emotional about the whole thing. Her baby was no longer a baby. "You're just growing up right before my eyes, aren't you?"

"Yep," she nodded, not even realizing the toll that took on her mother. She excitedly grabbed her hand, trying to get her to stand back up. "Come on, Mommy. We're having a tea party!"

"Oh, okay," she quickly relented, not really having much of a choice, and shut the door before she could be dragged away by her daughter. As she walked into the living room, Rick was indeed sitting at Judith's tiny tea table, equally as dressed up in a black suit, minus the jacket, which was flung over the staircase bannister. He looked better, at least, she noticed. His bushy beard had been trimmed, and so had his hair, though she wondered by whom, since that had been her job for the better part of five years. His face was still a bit gaunt, reminding her of how he skinny he was when they first met, but otherwise, he looked good. Hey," she tried to smile at him, but it involuntarily came out strained and a bit cold.

"Hey," Rick returned, standing from the table with a small frown on his face as he checked his watch. It was only a little after 4:00, and they'd agreed that she would come by at 6:00. "You're early."

"I know," she nodded apologetically. She looked down at her leggings and oversized sweater, feeling even more out of place and underdressed to boot. She smirked to herself as she looked back up at Rick. "I didn't realize you guys would be in the middle of something. I was hoping we–." She caught herself before she could say the real reason she was early. She wasn't sure she was ready anymore. "I thought I could get her home, have dinner, get ready for school tomorrow..."

"Well I was makin' dinner," he tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Mommy, come sit down with us," Judith suggested, still pulling on her hand. " _Please_."

"I'm sorry," she told Rick sincerely. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's not an interruption," he shook his head, his gaze taking her in from head to toe. "So long as you don't have to go now."

"I can wait," Michonne nodded. She knew he would've done anything she wanted, as that had been his standard operating procedure as of late, but she didn't want to be unfair. She was early, after all.

Judith was downright insistent then, trying to push her mother forward from behind. "Sit _down,_ Mommy."

"Okay, okay," she relented, slowly pulling off her coat. She folded it over a chair of the kitchen table and moved to join her family for tea. She felt nervous, though, her palms becoming clammy as she took a seat across from Rick, but she was almost glad Judith was forcing her to push through it. She had to remind herself that she needed to do this. "Did you have a good weekend?" she decided to ask as an icebreaker, although it was pretty clear that they had.

Judith only nodded as she concentrated on pouring tea for her new addition to the table. "Do you want any sugar, Mommy?"

"I'm good, sweetie," she politely declined, surprised to see that they were using real tea in their setup. It was a full spread, really, complete with cookies and finger sandwiches. Between that and their wardrobe, she was actually quite impressed with how much effort Rick had obviously put into this.

"We watched Mary Poppins last night," Rick offered, seeing Michonne was obviously confused by this elaborate version of their usual tea service. "She wanted to have it up on the ceiling, I told her this was the best I could do."

Michonne smiled genuinely at the thought of that conversation, and she was sorry she missed it. "I see." She held up her cup, as if to toast him, and took a sip of the lukewarm brew. "This is delicious, Judith."

"I put the tea bags in the water," she grinned, pleased with herself, though she paused to touch her loose tooth again.

"I can tell," she winked, setting her cup back down in its saucer. She looked around the festive home, the Christmas lights bringing a warmth to it that was absent the last time she was there. There was no tree yet, but she noticed their four stockings hanging from the mantle, labeled with their names in glitter, and her stomach dropped. The thought of not being in this space on Christmas morning made her feel worse than she already did.

Rick had noticed the change in Michonne's expression when she gazed at the mantle, and he wondered if he should ask, again, if they could speak. She seemed to be in a pleasant enough mood, or at least a compromising one, and maybe he shouldn't take advantage of that, but after three weeks of avoiding the conversation, he just wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. He almost wished they lived in a sitcom, because it was undoubtedly time for the 'stuck in an elevator' episode, where she would be forced to talk to him. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Judith beat him to the punch, rattling them both from their spiraling thoughts.

"Mommy, did you have a good weekend?" Judith asked, hoping that she did. She always wondered what her parents were up to when she wasn't around.

"I had a very boring weekend without you," she admitted. She was talking to Judith, but her eyes landed on Rick as she finished her sentence, and she awkwardly looked away, finding a window to focus on. "By the way, you guys did a great job on the decorations."

"Thank you, Mommy." Judith slurped up her tea as she watched her parents take turns staring at one another. "Daddy wanted to make sure you liked it."

Michonne glanced at her very perceptive daughter and gave her nose a light tap. "Well you both succeeded."

"Abe and I are gonna go out to find trees tomorrow," Rick commented, also looking around the room before settling back on his wife. "Figured we could all decorate it when Carl comes home. I wasn't sure if you were plannin' to come with him…"

Michonne wasn't sure either. Her plans for Christmas were as up in the air as her marriage in that moment, one hinging on the other, really. "That's a good idea," she said, purposely not giving away much of anything. She took another sip from her tiny cup as she considered whether it would be a good idea for her to stay for dinner. She wasn't exactly comfortable, and having Judith there only seemed to highlight the point. Things were stilted, and her overactive nerves weren't helping. She should've just stayed at Hilltop, and let Rick bring Judith back, as usual. Her attempt at doing anything else was feeling like a lost and misguided cause, trying to talk to him because other people said she should. "How long do you think you need for dinner?" she wondered. She picked up a cucumber sandwich from the display in front of her, figuring it would ward off the hunger pangs until she could get back... home?

"Well it's just about ready," he said, beginning to calculate minutes in his mind. "So give her another thirty minutes to eat, I'd say an hour?"

She nodded. "I'm gonna go take a walk then."

"You're not gonna stay for dinner, Mommy?"

"Not this time, sweetie," she declined, briefly cupping Judith's rosy cheek. "I'm gonna let you and Daddy enjoy this one together."

Luckily, Judith was too excited by her dental condition to be disappointed, but it was clear that Rick wasn't quite so amenable. He didn't understand what she was doing. He was always so good at reading her, but in their time apart, it seemed he'd lost his power. It felt like he was staring at the woman who showed up to the prison carrying baby formula; the woman who clearly had something to say, but refused to speak. "Michonne, are you all right?" he questioned her. He hoped her strange demeanor was a sign that the cracks in her facade were coming to a full-on break; perhaps a couple more taps would send all that armor crashing to the ground. "Judith, do me a favor and go to your room, sweetheart."

She began to rise from her seat to do as told, but she couldn't help but notice the tension in the room, the fact that her mother didn't look so great. "Are you okay, Mommy?"

Rick watched as Michonne covered her face, unable to stop herself from bursting into tears, and he quickly shot up from the table again. "Judith, go now," he instructed a bit more harshly this time. He went to his wife, kneeling in front of her, much in the same way he had the night everything broke apart. He didn't touch her, not wanting to make her uneasy, but he gazed at her, worried, inwardly begging for her to lean on him if she needed to. He waited until he heard Judith's footsteps slowly reach the top of the steps before he spoke again. "Michonne…"

She shook her head as her endless tears soaked her hand and fell into her lap. "I hate you for doing this to me," she said from behind her fingers.

"I know," he whispered, nodding down at the floor. He noticed his knees touching her boots and he moved back another inch. "I know."

"I came here to see if I could be in the same room with you and be cordial," she confessed beneath her sniffles, her voice quivering. "I hoped I could be sane enough to at least listen to you speak. And I honestly just don't know, Rick. If my emotions were visible, they would look like a scene from Alice in Wonderland right now. I'm completely fucked up, and I feel like I've regressed into exactly what I didn't wanna be, and it makes me mad at you all over again." She lifted her hand from her face, wiping her cheeks with her palm as she stared at the top of his lowered head, still shaking hers. "But I don't know what else to do. Even if I don't want to, I don't think I can go another day without talking to you about this." She swallowed hard as he looked up, and their eyes, both so full of sadness, locked on one another, her tone lacking any conviction as she whispered, "So… let's talk."


	13. But Ten Times Outta Nine, I'm Only Human, Tell Me What Did I Do Wrong?

"How long do I have to stay up here?"

Rick turned back to his daughter as he set up her dinner, shaking his head, because he had no earthly idea of the answer. How long does it take to save a marriage? "I'm not sure, sweetheart."

She nodded as she watched her father, situating her bowl of soup and apple juice on her desk. She knew something strange was going if her parents were allowing her to eat in her room. That only happened when she was sick or if they had company. "Is Mommy okay?"

He only sighed, because again, he didn't have an answer, and he didn't want to lie - he was done doing that to the people he loved - so he ignored the question altogether. "What movie do you wanna watch?" He'd brought her a small selection of their Disney collection, hoping to give her a fairytale to escape to amidst their nightmare. Without words, Judith pointed to her favorite, _The Princess and the Frog_ , and silently sat at her desk to begin on her meal. Rick kept his eye on her as he configured the movie on their laptop, and her melancholy demeanor was just breaking his heart. She'd gone from being elated over her loose tooth to deflated over the obvious dissonance in her home, and he couldn't think of anything worse than crushing his daughter's very carefree spirit. "Everything's gonna be okay," he said to her, wanting, needing to give her _something_.

She looked up, seemingly surprised by his declaration, but she nodded earnestly, believing him. He was her father, after all. "Okay, Daddy."

Those eyes. Those big, sad brown eyes. They were going to be the death of him. He quickly grabbed her headphones from the desk drawer and plugged them in before placing them over her head. He wasn't sure what this conversation would turn into, but if it got loud, the last thing he wanted was for Judith to hear. "You call downstairs if you need anything," he added, pulling the ear pads into place. He finished with a kiss to the top of her forehead, leaving her in peace while he went off to fight for his wife.

Rick choked back his nerves as he headed back downstairs, readying himself to face the music he'd been asking to be played for nearly a month now. Still, his mouth felt dry as his shoes clicked down the staircase of the silent house, and he turned into the living room, where Michonne had moved to their regular table instead of the miniature version sitting in the middle of the room. He apprehensively walked in to join her, still a bit stunned that she had finally given in. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, he wasn't entirely sure where to start. There was just so much. Months and months of silence amounted to this moment, and he was so terrified of fucking it up, he had to take a moment to collect his thoughts as he took a seat. He stared at his fidgeting fingers, trying to decide how to begin.

Michonne had her arms and legs crossed as she peered at her husband, waiting for him to commence this conversation he'd been so desperate to have. "Speak," she snapped at him, already frustrated by the fact that she had to practically bully herself into doing this.

"I guess… I guess it's best to just start at the beginning," Rick declared, his gloomy blue gaze focused on the tabletop instead of her. "Or what I think is the beginning, anyway. You can tell me if you disagree…"

"I will," she assured him.

"All right, well I think it started with Carl leaving," he quietly contended, his eyes darting up at her to get her initial response. "I think both of us, maybe more me than you, but I think we were more hurt about it than we let on. You know, our entire lives these past few years have been about keeping this family together, and when he said he wanted to go, it felt like a piece of me was leaving. And I'd say I haven't quite felt the same since then."

Michonne stared at him, at his hands, really, as he moved them while he talked, and his wedding ring was like a big blinking gold sign as he spoke, trying to distract her. But she heard what he was saying, and it was hard to disagree. Carl left just about a year ago, and things had been different ever since. She never considered that to be a bad thing, but perhaps, for them, it was. "Me, too," she eventually admitted. "Those first few months were especially just… rough. I missed him every day." She shook her head sadly, thinking of how she still did. Before she moved to Hilltop, anyway.

"That why you never wanted to come with me when I went to see him?"

"I thought giving it space would make me feel better," she shrugged. She smirked to herself as she recognized she handled that the same why she was trying to handle this. Ignoring it. "I thought you were the one taking it badly, always wanting to be there," she frowned in recollection. "He's not a kid anymore, and I wanted to respect his wishes. But I also thought I would get used to it more easily if I didn't see him all the time."

"And I thought I'd get used to it more if I could still see him all the time," Rick countered ruefully. He also shook his head at the fact that neither of them seemed to have found the right solution. Maybe there wasn't one. "It's so hard watching your kids get older."

She nodded in absolute agreement, as she had just felt that very pain in seeing Judith was already losing teeth. Carl leaving probably was the start of all this, he was right. And with that came the realization of something else. "Do you think… or maybe you know at this point," she posited, eyeing him cautiously. "Is that why you wanted a baby?"

He looked back at her, the answer already apparent in his tired eyes. "I think so," he mumbled. "Yeah."

Michonne winced at his admission, feeling especially bad then for not being able to give him that. It was her first regret among many, even if logically, she knew it wasn't her fault.

"That's probably not a good reason to want a baby," he added when he took in the look on her face. "Or maybe in this world, there are no good reasons."

"Maybe in this world, they're all good reasons," she offered softly. "Who's to say?"

Rick nodded appreciatively at her understanding. "I just feel like it's all happening so fast." He exhaled deeply and rested his elbow on the table, rubbing at his forehead. "I don't even remember Judith's first two years. It's just this blur of running, and trying to keep her alive, and feeling like I was failing. And with Carl, Lori and I were so young… I don't think we had a clue what we were doing. With him or with each other." He let out another light sigh as he gazed at his wife, noting how she looked like a painting, sitting there in the orange glow of the sunset streaming in from the front windows. "I wanted to do this with _you_ , Michonne. The right way, with things being good between us. Turns out, it just ruined everything."

She swallowed her surfacing emotions as she thought about how they may be doing the exact opposite now – having a baby with things being completely bad between them, though she was pretty sure it wouldn't fix anything. "That's not what's your fault," she said, watching him run his hands over his hair. She was reminded of how she was usually the one to do that; or more accurately, how she missed doing that.

"I know," he nodded. "And it's not Carl's fault for leaving either. But certain things put certain events in motion, and we don't realize it until all is said and done."

Michonne agreed with a nearly imperceptible nod back as it began to register that whatever he'd cooked for dinner was making her both hungry and nauseated. "You mind if I get some water?"

"You can do whatever you want," he reminded her, hating that she seemed so intent on acting like she was a guest there. Not parking in her usual spot, knocking on the door, and now she was requesting permission to use her own kitchen. "You still live here, don't you?"

"I keep asking myself that," she retorted, confirming her state of mind as she stood from the table. Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen and went straight for the cabinet containing their glassware to retrieve a cup, then to the refrigerator for ice and the pitcher of water they kept in it. Everything was so neat and tidy – Tupperware stacked, the array of fruits and vegetables arranged by color the crisper – again, like she'd never left. Rick had clearly put in real effort to keep up their home, and she appreciated it.

Once she filled her glass, Michonne turned for the stove to sneak a peek of what he'd cooked. It was a large pot of what looked like chili, but was probably stuffed pepper soup, knowing he wouldn't make anything particularly spicy for Judith. Either way, given her tendency toward evening sickness instead of the morning version that came with her last pregnancy, the smell of cooked beef made her stomach churn. She quickly took a couple of sips of her water as she went the long way back to the table in order to grab another sandwich from the tea set.

"You can have some soup if you want," Rick offered once she returned, as it was clear that she was hungry.

"I'm fine," she declined, reclaiming her seat across from him.

He looked down, disappointed that after everything, she was still trying to make that claim believable. He was surprised she hadn't gone to fix herself a drink. "So why didn't you tell me you were scared?" he asked, deciding to move on before it could bother him too much.

"About the baby?" she wondered. She watched him nod, though he still didn't look at her. "I didn't wanna worry you," she answered simply. "And because I didn't _want_ to be scared. You were so excited, so hopeful for the first time since… I don't even know," she tried to recall. "Maybe since we got together. And I didn't wanna take that away from you. I didn't even want to give weight to it, because I knew my fears didn't really matter…"

"What do you mean they didn't matter," he scowled. "You think I wouldn't have cared?"

"No," she calmly denied. "No. I just mean, I wasn't going to let my fears stop me from doing it. It didn't change anything. So why scare you, too?"

Rick nodded and let out a soft exhale. It was so hard to come to terms with the idea that their 'perfect' marriage was built on a fallacy. Pretending they were a team, when really, they'd repeatedly tried to take on their burdens alone. "Before all this happened, would you say you trusted me?"

She started to answer without even stopping to think, because she figured it was obvious she did. But he was clearly looking for her to dig deeper than that, so she caught herself and considered what he was asking. "I thought I did."

"You trust me with your life," he said as both a statement and a question. He knew that much, as she'd done it countless times before.

"Yeah…"

"You trusted me with your heart," he went on. "Your body. Your mind."

"I married you, so yes, Rick."

"But you don't trust me with your pain. And I'm guilty of this too, so I'm not accusing you of anything, but just acknowledging that this is one of our fatal flaws. You want so badly to take care of everyone else, always protecting other people's feelings, making sure they don't get hurt, you don't share it when you feel it yourself. You keep it bottled up until it manifests itself in some way that only hurts you more." For her, it had been this quiet agony that made her use alcohol to drown it out. For him, it was unloading his problems on someone else, ruining his marriage in the process. "Life has been good to us these past few years," he continued to speak, despite his hoarse voice. "No personal tragedies to speak of. We've fought and we've won every time. And I think it's made us complacent. I think it's made us lazy. And I think, when something disrupted that, you reverted back to your old ways of silent suffering."

"And you reverted back to your old ways of dragging everyone into your emotional downward spiral."

"I did," Rick granted. "I didn't trust you either, and I blew up my life because of it. And I'm gonna go to my grave regretting that."

Michonne wiped her face, even though no more tears had fallen yet, but it felt like they were. Because she had regrets too, and it annoyed her that she couldn't simply lay all of this at his feet. She had her own part to play in this breakdown. "I just didn't wanna hurt you," she said, her voice sounding wet with the threat of those tears.

"And what's the point of being married to someone if you're too scared or unwilling to let them hurt with you," he shook his head. Not at her, but because he failed to think of all these things before he'd done them himself. "I want us to have a marriage where we share things. Not just our day-to-day lives, which I think is important, too, but the big things. I want us to stop tryin' to protect each other, and just… just be. You should be able to tell me when you're in so much pain you feel numb. And I should be able to tell you that I feel lost. We should be honest, and not have to apologize for it. We should know by now that that doesn't make us any less of what we are. It makes us more."

"You're right," she quietly replied, her brows furrowed as she took in his plea. If they were going to move forward, that had to be part of their mission statement. "That's the marriage I thought I had, but you're right. It takes work, and courage, and that's something I didn't have after… the miscarriage," she confessed. "The reason I kept telling you I was sorry, I just felt so guilty." Her voice was so low she was practically whispering. "I couldn't give you what you wanted, in a baby, and I couldn't give you what you needed, in having someone to talk to about it."

"I should've seen that you refusing to talk about it was your own form of grief. It's so obvious in hindsight, but…"

"That's not what it was," she tried to refute.

"Michonne, it was," he insisted. "You can label it as relief if you want to, but I really think that was only part of it. You just said it yourself, you felt guilt. And I know some part of you had to be thinking about Andre." He flinched a bit at his own mention of her son, thinking of how he'd betrayed her in the worst possible way the last time he invoked his name. "I mean, you called William by his name, and I just imagine you must think about him a lot. But refusing to process any of it doesn't mean it's not happening."

She looked at Rick intently, seeing he had obviously taken a lot of time to think things over. And ordinarily, she would've been impressed, but his sudden enlightenment was essentially just pissing her off. Because why did he have to kiss another woman to figure it all out? "You couldn't come to these conclusions before you turned yourself into a liar, huh?"

Rick sighed, glancing over to the mantle because he couldn't really take her glare in that moment. "What do you want me to say?"

"That's the thing, Rick. That's the problem with talking. It doesn't mean anything. Words without action are just words."

"Well the only way I know how to put it into action is to try again," he countered. "You have to come home, we have to be married again. You have to give me the chance to show you that I won't do this to you again."

"And what if I can't take that chance?" she questioned him, her voice and lips quivering as a tear snuck down her right cheek. "What if I'm too scared to try again?" She erupted into a full on cry as she grasped that that was precisely why she had been avoiding this. Avoiding him. Michonne was absolutely terrified of trying and failing again. It'd happened so many times before, putting herself out there, only to have her heart ripped out of her chest, her joy turned to ashes in her mouth. How was she supposed to survive another heartbreak? She rested her forehead on the edge of the table and closed her eyes, but it was so quiet in the room, she could hear her tears dropping to the tabletop as she cried. "I'm so scared," she whispered.

Rick immediately went to her side, because he didn't know what else to do, even if he could guess that she might not have wanted his comfort. But he simply couldn't leave her sitting there crying and unattended to. He kneeled in front of her for the second time that day, and he grabbed a napkin from the tea table so that she could wipe her face. "I know you're scared," he whispered, tentatively resting a hand on her knee. "I know I'm askin' a lot here, askin' you to give me another chance, and it probably feels like all you're doing is giving me another opportunity to hurt you. And you are. The people that can really hurt you are the ones close enough to do it. And it's terrifying. And I know it's not what you signed up for. But I'm glad you admitted it," he said, staring up at her. "Whether it was to me or to yourself, I'm glad you could say it out loud, and just be… be vulnerable. And I wanna be there for you, Michonne. I wanna be scared with you, I wanna cry with you. I know I stumbled, I fell flat on my face, but I'm back up again, and I'm ready to fight. I wanna work. I wanna be the husband I _should've_ been to you."

_Ten times outta nine, I know you're lying_  
_But nine times outta ten, I know you're trying_  
_So I'm trying to be fair  
_ _And you're trying to be there and to care_

Still wiping her face, Michonne finally lifted her head from the table, and turned so that she was facing him. Looking down on him. "You trust me?" she asked him, genuinely unsure of the answer. She hoped he would give her the courtesy of thinking about it before he gave some canned response.

"I know I trust you in the ways I mentioned before," he started to say, "but I know I have insecurities that make it difficult in other ways."

"Like what?" she pressed.

"Like worrying that I'm not good enough for you," he nodded, looking at the floor to avert her stare. "My mental… state. I think you deserve to be with someone that's your equal, and I wonder if that's not me sometimes."

"You think I'm not crazy sometimes?" she narrowed her gaze on him. "You think I made it up when I said I talked to Mike's ghost? You witnessed me calling other people's kids my dead son's name."

"I just think… and maybe I'm wrong," he allowed, "because I know we tend to magnify our own faults, but it just seems like you have a much better handle on it all than I do."

She bit her lip, not having a response for that, because it might've been true. All of his faults seemed magnified to her, too, in light of what he'd done. "Is that why you were surprised that I chose you?"

"Yeah," he intimated, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible. It was hard to admit out loud, but ever since Lori died, he'd been extremely insecure about his mental stability. Michonne's friendship in spite of it, and eventually, her love, gave him confidence, but it didn't wholly fix him. The doubts still crept in, as they're known to do, and it was all he could do to just ignore them.

_And you're caught up in your permanent emotions_

Michonne watched him for a moment, it was clear he was trying to figure out a way to explain it to her, but she didn't want him to. He didn't owe her justification for his mental health, or lack thereof. The world had done a number on him, and that was explanation enough. "It's a shame that you feel that somehow makes you less worthy. Because it's part of what I love about you, and why I chose you."

"You chose me because I'm fucked up in the head?" he smirked, purposely echoing the insult she'd hurled at him in the car that day.

"I shouldn't have said that," she conceded, shaking her head at how mean she'd been then. Not that he didn't deserve it. "I was angry, but I don't think you're fucked up, Rick. Not any more than I am. And I've always loved that you try so hard, maybe because of it. You've never let it stop you from anything."

He kept his eyes on the floor as she spoke, feeling relieved and disarmed by her words. They were things that he probably already knew in the back of his mind, because she wouldn't be with him if she didn't believe in him, if she thought he was truly crazy, but perhaps he just needed to hear it.

_All the loving I've been giving goes unnoticed  
_ _It's just floating in the air, looky there_

"I'm glad we could establish that, at least," Michonne sighed. She had actually started to feel better about some things, even if she still wasn't certain about anything. "It's nice to not be alone in your insecurity, I guess."

"Yeah…"

"But do you think - and please do think about this," she implored him, receiving his blue stare in return. "Do you think you can trust me not to hurt you? After what you've done to me?"

Rick used the knuckle of his thumb to wipe his watering eyes as he contemplated that question. It sounded vaguely foreboding, but he understood what she was really asking - can we move forward? "Yes," he stated honestly, clearly, emphatically. "I don't think you're vengeful or anything like it. I don't think you'd ever purposely hurt me, even after this. But that doesn't mean you can't, it doesn't mean you won't. If we're gonna be honest with each other, hell, it's probably more likely that you will. But I trust you to be human."

"Oh, so _now_ you know I'm human," she scoffed.

"Michonne, I always knew that," he promised. His eyes narrowed on her, fixating on her face, and he wished there was a way to make her believe him. "I worship you, I do," he nodded. "I think I should. And I would literally kiss the ground you walk on if you asked me to. But I don't think you're some kind of god."

"Then why would you think I'm unbreakable?" she frowned, almost wondering if he did all this to see if it would break her.

"I don't," he whispered.

"That's what you said. That's what you told that woman."

"I did. I said it in a moment of weakness, in feeling sorry for myself because I didn't think I was as strong as you. I felt like I was cracking under the pressure, and you weren't, and I said that," he acknowledged with a small nod. "She asked me if I resented it, and I said no… but I think that was another lie."

_Are you aware you're my lifeline, are you trying to kill me?_

Michonne covered her face again, feeling exhausted by this conversation. There were so many layers to it all, she wasn't sure how they would ever get to the bottom. If she hadn't hid from him in the first place, perhaps this wouldn't have happened. And then if he hadn't tried to do the same… it was just this vicious cycle of regrets. It was draining. But she pressed on, because the more they spoke, the more questions she had. She looked at his hand on her knee, the gesture he always made when comforting her. He'd done it that night she miscarried. "Why would you think it's weak to care about the loss of a child?"

He removed his hand from her knee when he noticed her notice it. He couldn't even recall putting it there. "I think… I guess because it wasn't a child yet," he replied, scratching nervously at his stubbly cheek. "It wasn't real yet. And I saw you going on with your life. I figured, if you could do it after Andre, I should certainly be able to do it after this. I dunno."

"You thought I would think you were weak?"

"I dunno," he repeated.

"You do know."

"I just know I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be the man that you deserved to have, not someone broken over something that didn't even exist yet."

"Rick…" she sighed heavily. She really hated that she'd shut him out, but here was nothing she could do about it now. She fucked up, and then he fucked up more. "He or she may not have had a name or face yet, but it existed. It was a child, and you had every right-." She stopped herself when she thought about how stupid she was not to notice it before now. "You've devoted your life to your children. And I shouldn't have expected any less from you," she admitted with a sympathetic nod. "That's not weakness."

"I know that now," he assured her. "But I also know, I mean it was just… again, it was me being self-conscious. I've always thought you were better than me. I've always wanted to be more like you, and to be someone you could be proud of."

"And you have been. You were," she shook her head. "That's what I don't understand. Did I make you feel unwanted? Like you weren't enough for me?"

"No."

"Then what, Rick? Why do you keep acting like you have something to prove? Better yet, why do you keep gravitating towards these women who mean nothing, who do _nothing_ for you?"

_If it wasn't me, would you still feel me?  
_ _Like on my worst day?_

"I think it's like you said," he was shy to confess, his head lowered in shame. "It's an ego boost."

"But why do you need one," she demanded. "What do I have to do for you? Or are you saying that no matter how many birthday parties I throw, no matter how much praise I send your way, no matter how many times I get on my knees for you, it'll never be enough? You need Magna to make you feel big, because I make you feel small?"

_Or am I not thirsty enough?_

"It's not you, Michonne. And it's not that. I felt small with Lori, and that's definitely not what I feel with you."

"Then _what_?"

"It's… it's when someone wants you but they can't have you," he revealed, knowing how feeble it sounded as it came out of his mouth. "It's - there's something addictive in that feeling."

"Except they _can_ have you," she reminded him. "You're giving yourself to them, emotionally and even physically."

"It's pieces. I gave them fragments of myself when I was broken, but it's never been me. Not the way I am with you. Not who I wanna be with you."

She glared at him angrily then, because in this case, he'd given away pieces of her along with himself. The danger of a holy union, apparently. "You have to get your shit together," she chided him. "Every time you assign one of these women some meaning in your life, you end up lying to me. You erase a little bit of us. And I don't want to have to keep putting us back together. I shouldn't have to do that."

"You shouldn't," he nodded. "And I don't wanna be someone who seeks validation from others. I don't wanna crave attention. That's not me."

_I don't care about the lights or the beams  
_ _Spend my life in the dark for the sake of you and me_

"Maybe it is," Michonne frowned in thought. "You blush when people shower you with praise, but deep down, I think you do like it. And that's fine. I like when they do it, too. There's nothing wrong with appreciating flattery. But you can't be so charmed by it that you forget yourself. You can't let these ego trips take you so far away from me that you end up in someone else's bed."

_Only way to go is up  
_ _Skin thick, too tough_

Rick swallowed hard as he closed his eyes and digested her words, letting them seep into his mind, his heart, even his skin. Because he truly never wanted to be in this situation again. "I kept trying to tell myself that it meant nothing," he started to speak quietly again. "And as far as she's concerned, it didn't. I don't… want her or anything like that-"

"But you are attracted to her," she cut in to say. To ask.

"I mean, she's attractive," he shrugged. "I think it was less physical attraction and more, not emotional, because that gives it more weight than it merits, but we just… we got along well. We were friends."

Michonne stared at him again, studying his face to try and gauge whether he was being honest with her. She was getting irrationally mad, because she felt like he was. "What made that day so different then?"

"It was just an instance of being caught up in the moment. She was saying things I wanted to hear. I needed this - this _acknowledgement_ that I was sad, and she gave me that." His right hand was twisting his wedding band around his left ring finger as he spoke. "And it wasn't some secret desire for her I was acting out on, it wasn't about intimacy with her. It was about the lack of it that _we_ had at that time. It was me finally getting what I'd been looking for from you; I went and found it with someone else, and I can see now what that meant. How it said a lot more about the state of our relationship than I was willing to admit," he explained, biting at the corner of his bottom lip in the process. "And I can see why you would think I don't wanna be married when I do something like that. But it was more about you, about _us_ , than anything involving her."

Her frown softened as she heard the words to her letter in just about everything he was saying, and she imagined he'd read it repeatedly since the day she left. Memorized it. Internalized it. She believed he had learned something here. Maybe even more than she had, in the end. "It's been extremely difficult for me to face all of this," she said, knowing she was stating the obvious. "While you've taken the month to think about what you've done - and I can tell you have," she nodded. And it was then she realized how long he'd been on his knees, a physical manifestation of his groveling. "I've been avoiding it, because it just hurt too much to try and figure out why you would do this. Why you would risk all this, when you could've just talked to me. But I do have to think about my role in all this, and we created a home, an environment where failure couldn't be an option. Because for a very long time, losing meant dying, and I think you were right when you said we never recovered from that. We never taught ourselves how to grieve properly, how to process properly. I remember how you were when we first came here…" She was mindlessly picking at her wet eyelashes as she thought about him and Sasha at that time especially. "We all suffered from our own versions of PTSD, but never really treated it. So this thing, this loss, comes barging into our home, and I blocked it out. I did. And with it, I blocked you out, and I'm sorry, Rick." She said it honestly, clearly, and emphatically. "I need you to know that I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you for that," he shook his head.

"No, you did. And I deserved it, just as much as you deserve blame for what you did."

"All right," he nodded, understanding that she was taking responsibility, and he had to give it to her.

"I'm just so worried," she sighed, looking exasperatedly up at the ceiling. The room had gotten dark, the only light coming from the kitchen, which seemed to insist on making Rick's eyes glisten, and it was doing a number on her rationality. "Things really are never gonna be the same after this."

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," Rick reminded her. "Better communication between us, being honest. Knowing now that we _should_ be honest, no matter how much it hurts."

"Yeah, that's not what I mean," Michonne smirked, a bit of derisiveness in her tone as she looked back down on him. "Before this happened, I felt like the bond we had was unlike anything I've ever experienced. To be able to look at someone and actually know what they're thinking. To find love with this complete stranger, and feel the same emotions as them. To hurt when they hurt, feel joy when they feel joy." She shook her head just thinking of everything they'd been through together. "We've lived on this same wavelength for so long, and it feels like you just... knocked me off, and I'm out in the middle of nowhere, floundering alone. And I just really don't know if we can get back to where we were. And that's where I wanna be."

' _Cause you, you, you, you and me could move a mountain  
_ _You, you, you, you and me could calm a war down_

Rick felt a rush of tears that came spilling out onto his cheeks, and he lowered his head to her lap so that she wouldn't see them. He'd forced himself to figure out a lot of this on his own, but he never quite considered that their bond was irreparably broken. The idea that this truly was unfixable, it hit him hard and unexpectedly.

Michonne grimaced when she felt her own tears trying to surface again as she listened to her husband cry. She didn't want this to be the end, but if nothing else, she thought she owed it to him to be as honest as possible in this dialogue. Still, she hated to see him like this, and she reached out a hand to touch him, to comfort him. She was hesitant, her fingers trembling as they slowly settled on top of his head, but it wasn't long before she was softly stroking his curls. "Rick…"

_You, you, you, you and me could make it rain now  
_ ' _Cause you, you, you, you and me could stop this love drought_

"Mommy!"

Michonne let out a small exhale of relief as Judith called her from upstairs, and she was thankful for the interruption, having no idea what was about to come out of her mouth next. In fact, her emotions were probably about to betray all of the logic she'd been trying to employ here. "I should check on her," she whispered, carefully maneuvering out of her seat so as not to hit him as she moved. She rushed to the steps to answer Judith's summon, finding her standing at the top of the staircase, gazing down skeptically, as if she were afraid to take another step any closer to whatever was happening downstairs. "What's wrong?" Michonne asked, beginning to make her way up.

"Can I come downstairs yet?" she hoped, still peeking past her mother, wanting her father to be somehow hidden behind her.

"Not yet, sweetie," she submitted, hating to deny her. "Did you finish your dinner?"

Judith nodded as she turned to lead her mom back to her room, where her empty bowl and juice glass sat on her desk, while the laptop continued to play the movie she'd been watching. "I ate it all, Mommy."

"I see that," she grinned, affectionately brushing her hand over the front of her slightly mussed hair. "You okay up here?"

She nodded again, though less enthusiastically this time, as she went back to her chair. "What are you doing down there?"

"We're just talking," Michonne answered, picking up her empty dishes. "We needed some adult time."

"Oh." Judith scrunched up her face, confused by that explanation, remembering how her parents had already given that name to something else. And it was the reason she always had to knock before entering their bedroom. "But I thought you did adult time in your room?"

Michonne could only laugh, knowing her child was much too smart for her own good. "There are different kinds of adult time."

She sighed exaggeratedly as she wondered, "Well how much longer will this one take?"

"I don't know, baby." She knew it couldn't take too much longer, considering she still had to get Judith back to Hilltop, and it was getting late. "Call me again when your movie goes off, okay?"

"Okay," she promised, retrieving her headphones.

Michonne left her with a kiss to the top of her head and closed the door on her way out. It almost felt normal, she realized as she headed downstairs - the small act of leaving her daughter's room. It was a much needed reminder that this was still her home. Her trying to make a life at Hilltop was nothing compared to the one she'd already created there, and she made it a point to keep that in mind as she tried to wade through everything else.

When she returned to Rick, he was standing at the island of the kitchen with the plate of tea sandwiches that hadn't yet been eaten, settling on an egg salad one for himself. Michonne was glad to see him eating something, but it didn't seem like enough in her mind. "You should have some soup," she suggested, though it was more of an instruction, as she headed toward the sink.

He glanced at her, but didn't hesitate to retrieve a bowl from the cabinet as he asked, "How is she?"

"She's fine. Confused, but she's okay."

He nodded, having figured as much. As he fixed his plate, he watched his wife out of the corner of his eye, washing dishes as if she knew she belonged there. For the first time since she'd walked in the door, his heart was finally beating at a normal pace, because he was at ease again. The two of them, in their kitchen. It felt right. "Did you want some?" he decided to press his luck and ask.

She shook her head as she fussed with the water temperature. "I'm fine."

Rick quietly accepted defeat and continued to stand at the counter, taking in small spoonfuls of the peppers, beef, and rice, as he waited for her to finish. "Can I ask you somethin'?" he requested once it seemed that she was done.

She turned to him as she started to towel dry Judith's bowl. "You can…"

"Do you feel any better? Now that we've gotten some things out in the open?"

She inhaled sharply as she pondered the question, though she was already certain of the answer. Undoubtedly, she was in a better place after their candid conversation. But the bar was set pretty low, considering how horrible she felt beforehand. "I do," she granted. She prepared herself another glass of water as she moved across the kitchen to join him at the counter, taking a seat at one of the stools opposite him. "I feel pretty confident that you've learned your lesson. I don't need to lecture you anymore, or quiz you on whether you know what you did wrong. I think you get it."

"You just don't know if you can forgive me," he guessed.

"Like I said, I just worry about what we'll be after this. How I'll look at you. How you'll respond to me. I don't wanna be just the shell of what we were."

Rick's eyes gazed her up and down, taking in every centimeter of her face now that he finally could again. He studied her gorgeous sunkissed locs, a couple of them dangling in the center of her face, blocking some of her expression. They'd gotten so long over the years. When they met, her hair was shoulder length, mostly black and brown, and now, it stopped at her waist, and it was this beautiful blend of chocolate and honey. Same as her skin in certain light. He took in her nose, her lips, so perfect, so unlike anyone he'd ever seen. But then his favorite thing about her face was her eyes. They were so expressive, even glaring at him the way they were now. He adored her eyes, these deep brown wonders that seemed to know everything and yet, show so much of her vulnerability. In her eyes, he could see all of her strength, wrapped up in all of her fears. It was astounding.

"What?" she finally asked, feeling uncomfortably naked under his intense stare.

"In your letter," he began, "you asked me what I saw when I looked at you." He gently dropped his spoon into his half-full bowl and wiped at his lips with his fingers. "When I look at you, I see my best friend," he said. "I see the mother of my children. I see… the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on. Inside and out. I see that you've had a difficult journey to happiness, and it's hard for you to trust it when you finally find it. Especially when something happens, when _I_ happen, and threaten to take it away from you. I see that it's hard for you to take that leap again, and I see _why_. Because I see the woman that showed up at my doorstep with baby formula and a sword, who, after losing everything, still didn't give up. Still gave love even when she thought she didn't have it to give. I see, not a superhero, but a warrior. The greatest warrior I've ever had the honor of fighting beside." He closed his eyes when he noticed she was tearing up, knowing he wouldn't be able to go on if he started crying again, too. "I see the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. I see the pain I've inflicted, and the scars you bear from it. I see where you tried to not let it affect you, and in a lot of ways it hasn't. You are still the gracious, wise, and loving woman you've always been. But no, I see your pain, too. I see you, Michonne. And I'm so sorry that I ever made you think otherwise."

Michonne could only nod in response, moved beyond words to reply with. Perhaps it was her unpredictable hormones that had her crying every ten minutes, but it was all she could do. She might never get over the fact that this man, who clearly loved her, had broken her heart. But she really wanted to try. "I know I can do this without you," she declared after a long moment of silence. "And based on how things look around here, I'm pretty sure you can do this without me too. But I don't want to," she admitted. "I keep picturing a lifetime of moments I don't wanna miss out on because you fucked up."

' _Cause you, you, you, you and me could move a mountain  
_ _You, you, you, you and me could calm a war down  
_ _You, you, you, you and me could make it rain now_

Rick's heart started racing again, and his eyes welled with tears, desperate to know if she was saying what he thought she was saying. "So you're... willing to try again?" he questioned cautiously.

"I'm willing to forgive you," she was quick to correct him. "I see the work you put in, and I think you took heed when I said you should be better when I'm worse." Her eyes flitted to the countertop, noting his food sitting there getting cold. "I'm not ready to do more than that. I'm not even ready to come back home yet - I need to take this slow," she explained. "But I do wanna leave you with that much, at least."

"And that's enough," he nodded understandingly. He knew, just as he couldn't force her into the conversation, he couldn't and wouldn't compel her to move any faster than she was willing to. "That's all I need right now."

Michonne raised an eyebrow at his use of _right now_ , but she appreciated his honesty. She didn't say anything else as she pulled his bowl across the counter toward her, much hungrier than she was previously willing to admit, and therefore willing to take the risk of eating something she couldn't stand the smell of. But it looked delicious, and her growling stomach told her to give it a try, so she did. A small taste of mostly tomatoes and peppers at first, and then a full spoon with rice and beef added. "This is good," she commented.

Rick happily accepted the spoon as she passed it back to him, and he found himself smiling with his wife for the first time he could remember in a long time. And it was a small, restrained smile, but a genuine one. Because finally, after weeks of actually dreading waking up, he was looking forward to the future again. He could _see_ a future. First, forgiveness, then resurrection, and then hope for redemption. And none of that was promised, he knew, but at the very least, his marriage would live to see another day. And that was good. "It is."

_And you, you, you, you and me, we'll stop this love drought_


	14. And I Know I Promised That I Couldn't Stay

 

It had been nearly a week since Rick and Michonne's come-to-Jesus talk, and what ended up being a turning point in their relationship. Both of them felt optimistic for the first time in a long time, but Michonne, especially, once she received confirmation from Dr. Carson that she was, in fact, pregnant again. Another baby; another chance. It felt as though forces were coming together to repair their marriage, to fix all the problems they'd ignored over the course of the year. They'd gone through hell, and it seemed as though maybe they could come out on the other side, better for it. She was hoping so, anyway.

And with that in mind, Michonne had packed up all of her and Judith's things, with every intention of going home. For Christmas, at least; for good, at most. To stay. She hoped. She didn't want to promise anyone anything – not even to herself, for fear of disappointment again – but she was open to the idea. And maybe she and Rick wouldn't sleep in the same room for a while; maybe she'd end up realizing that reconciliation wasn't possible after all, but she had to be willing to try. She believed too much in Rick, in herself and her choices, and in their love, to give up without a fight. So with her heart firmly planted on her sleeve, she'd come back to Alexandria.

_We built sandcastles that washed away_  
_I made you cry when I walked away_  
_And although I promised that I couldn't stay  
_ _Every promise don't work out that way_

It had been a good day, complemented by the fact that Carl had come home for the weekend, too. For a few hours' time, their family was complete again, even if he was a bit of a band-aid for their slowly-healing wounds. But things had gone well, from the lunch they shared upon their arrival, to the unusual mission of the four of them cooking dinner together. Things felt odd, but in a good way. Everyone tiptoeing on eggshells at first, but the awkwardness began to slowly subside throughout the day, to the point where dinner was almost normal. The four of them at their table, Judith next to her mother, and just across from them, Carl next to his father, the way they used to sit. It all felt right, and again, left Michonne with high hopes that things between her and Rick could remain intact once the holidays were over. That the new year would bring about a resurrection of their love, their family, and the joy that used to reside there with them. That was what she wanted to find under her tree this year.

"Mommy," Judith leaned into her mother, staring up at her curiously, "did you get Daddy anything for Christmas?"

Michonne glanced across the table, enjoying the way Rick was very obviously pretending not to be interested in the answer to the question as he carefully chewed his food. She smirked at him, knowing he had likely been wondering the same, and then looked back to her nosy daughter. "Of course I did," she answered, devouring a big scoop of macaroni and cheese.

Judith was quite happy to hear it, looking to her father with a playfully smug smile on her face, the same way Michonne often did when she was right. "I told you, Daddy."

"You told him what?" she asked in amusement, brushing crumbs from her daughter's mouth.

"Daddy said you wouldn't have time to get him anything for Christmas, but I said you would."

"Oh, you just know me so well, huh?"

"Uh huh," she nodded proudly. Happily. Her family was back in the same room together, and her parents were smiling at each other, and she couldn't think of anything better. "Daddy got you a good present," she added.

"Judith..." Rick cut in. He knew her well enough to know she was about two more sentences from ruining the surprise.

"I'm not gonna tell her what it is," she promised.

Michonne chuckled, figuring she could probably coerce it out of her if she really wanted to. "You're about as bad as Carl at keeping secrets," she declared, still grinning. Though she couldn't pretend she wasn't also curious about what Rick planned to give her. Her gift to him wasn't a tangible one, so perhaps it was a lie to say she'd 'gotten' him something. But if she knew Rick, there would be something waiting under that tree for her the next morning, and she was interested to know what.

But it was Carl's turn to interject, looking up from his delicious dinner with the need to defend himself. "Wait a minute, the bike thing was not my fault."

"Really? Because we managed to keep it a secret for four months, and she's with you for four minutes and you give it away."

"While that's true," he admitted, picking up his beer, "you guys knew you would've had the exact same problem if you'd kept the bike here, which is why you had me hold it in the first place. It's not my fault Judith is a busybody."

"I am not," she chimed back in, feeling offended for reasons she was unsure of.

"You totally are."

"Mommy, what's a busybody," she decided to ask, just to make sure.

She laughed and so did Rick, the two of them catching one another's eye as they found amusement in their daughter. "It's someone who visits their brother for Thanksgiving and snoops in the closets when she's supposed to be in bed."

Carl smiled appreciatively at the description, knowing Michonne understood that it wasn't his fault, even if she still teased him about it. "See," he taunted his sister.

"Mommy, that's not true!"

"It is true," she assured her, resuming her dinner.

Judith quickly turned for her father, feeling like her mother and brother were working against her. "Daddy, what's a busybody?" she whined.

"I'm pretty sure it's exactly what Mommy said, sweetheart," he agreed with a small, playful shrug. "Maybe for your New Year's resolution, you should think about that."

"Are we even doing resolutions this year?" Carl asked, suddenly reminded of their annual family tradition. With everything going on with his parents as of late, he was no longer sure what remained in the ruins at that point.

"I'd say so," Rick nodded, looking to his wife for confirmation. Essentially, they'd already done theirs when they spoke the weekend before, but he couldn't imagine they'd forego their holiday traditions, even if only for Judith's sake. "Right?"

"Yeah," Michonne frowned – she hadn't even considered it an option not to. "Of course."

"I have mine!" Judith raised her hand in excitement. "Can we do it now?"

"Jude, it's not New Year's yet," Carl reminded her. "We have to get through Christmas first."

She sighed dramatically as she counted in her head the days between Christmas Eve and New Years' Eve. " _Okay_."

"But we are gonna have a full house tomorrow, so we should probably choose names tonight," Michonne offered. "I want you to have time to think of good ones."

"Oh, I already have one for Dad," Carl smiled impishly as he rubbed his hands together.

"You don't even know if you're gonna get my name," Rick shook his head, glancing over to his son. He was so happy to have him there. "But that's fine, I have one for you, too."

"Oh, I hope _I_ get your name," Michonne submitted, her gaze playfully narrowed on Rick. His eyes were twinkling, almost dancing, in the warmly lit room. "I _really_ hope I get your name." As the rules went, each person made one resolution on their own, and one came from a family member, which was always the harder one to keep. It'd started off back when life was a little bit harder for them, and they'd always make very serious promises, like being more careful, or more forgiving. The first year, Carl made Michonne promise to always come home, which she took to heart then, especially given they were in the middle of a war at the time. But considering the state of things in their home, she was recalling it again now, and she smiled a bit ruefully, at Rick, in particular.

"You okay?" he asked her, noticing the look on her face.

"Yeah," she assured him with another small frown. She glanced over at Judith, looking happy as a clam as she chowed down on her fried chicken. And Michonne knew it was because she was where she was supposed to be - at home. "I do wanna say something, though."

Rick sat up a bit straighter in his chair, feeling somewhat nervous for whatever was about to come out of her mouth. Things seemed to be going almost too well. "What is it?"

She picked up her glass of water, letting them know that she was actually planning to make a toast. "I know it hasn't been easy these last few weeks," she said, looking at Rick, and then to Carl, and finally, to Judith, who'd probably been through the most in all this, considering she didn't even know what was going on. "But no matter what happens from here, I need everyone at this table to know that we're a _family_. And we were built on love, and our strength, and our resilience, and that will _never_ change." She looked down when she realized they were all staring at her. "As the years go by, my love for each and every one of you only gets grander, and I'm not sure how it's possible, but it's true. I love you, and I know that you love me, and at the end of the day, that's all that _really_ matters." She looked up at Rick again, and she smiled again. "The three of you are the beginning and the end of my days, and I thank god we have each other." She raised her glass to her loved ones and ended on a simple sentiment - "To the Grimes family."

Rick nodded, also holding out his whiskey tumbler with an amused smirk on his face as he clinked his glass with hers. He was so glad, so honored, so proud to share a name with her. "To the Grimes family."

"Here, here," Carl agreed. He toasted with Judith, and then his mom, followed lastly by his dad, hoping that he'd get the one thing he really wanted for Christmas - for Michonne to come back home.

Judith smiled at her dad and brother, but more than anything else, she was just happy to see her mother was happy again. And as she finished saluting with her mother, she sat up on her knees to offer her a hug, for good measure. "I love you, Mommy."

Michonne winced, trying to avoid a rush of tears as she felt Judith's embrace, and she gently kissed one of those little arms gently wrapped around her neck. Her baby was happy again, and so was she. She caught Rick's gaze once more, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the moment. Her wish was coming true. "I love you, too, sweetie."

_Every promise don't work out that way_

* * *

"It only took an hour, but she's finally asleep," Michonne announced, strolling back into the living room after putting Judith to bed. She walked in to find Rick kneeled on the floor in front of their newly-decorated Christmas tree, staring up at it, like a little kid, stuck in awe. "What are you doing?" she asked, practically giggling at him.

Shaken from his daze, Rick turned back to her with a shrug. "I dunno. Just thinkin' about how nice this is, I guess."

"It is a really nice tree," she nodded, surveying it as well. It was perfectly tall and full, the type you'd see on display at a fancy department store or hotel. And the irreplaceable fresh smell of pine just made it all come alive. "I'm glad you didn't listen to me when I said we should just get a fake one."

"Me too," he agreed with raised eyebrows. He pulled himself up from the floor as she made her way to the couch, and he noticed that in the time she was gone, she'd changed out of her sweater and into a t-shirt. "You hot?"

Michonne looked up from the table full of Judith's gifts, oblivious to the question. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were hot. You want me to turn down the fire?"

"Oh." She glanced at the crackling blaze on the hearth, enjoying the ambience it gave to the room. While pregnancy was certainly making her body act strange, she didn't want to ruin the moment - there should be a fire going in the fireplace on Christmas Eve. "No, I'm fine."

He wondered if this was another case of her saying that but not meaning, but he relented, not wanting to bring any tension to what had been a very pleasant day. "I was gonna get some eggnog before we get started. You want any?"

The thought of eggnog sounded disgusting to her at the moment. "Actually, could you get me some tea?"

"Sure," he nodded. "Of course."

She watched as he went off to the kitchen, and she began to arrange the table in preparation for gift wrapping. The paper and tape and scissors all neatly aligned on the coffee table and she moved the gifts to the floor, organizing them in order of size. It was mostly books that Rick had found, at her behest, but a few toys were in the lineup as well. Dolls and action figures, puzzles and board games. She almost missed the days when all Judith needed was a cup to keep her busy, but it felt good to be able to give her the Christmases and birthdays that they had as kids. All semblance of the old world wasn't lost.

As she shuffled through the different titles, trying to decide which ones to group together, there was one in particular that caught Michonne's eye. Or rather, her nose, as her keen sense of smell caught wind of the book first. It had that wonderful old book aroma that could only come from being on a public library shelf for years and years. But seeing the title gave her pause very quickly thereafter, and she grinned brightly at the fact that Rick remembered. _The Velveteen Rabbit_. Her favorite childhood book, and one she really wanted for Judith. It was a hardcover version, which she knew was one of the earlier editions, and it somehow managed to elate her even more. Her fingers gently traced over the letters of the title, thinking of how Rick had listened to her, even at a time when he was frustratingly distracted by other things. It made her smile; it made her happy. After what had already been a good day, this was a delicious cherry on top.

_Dishes smashed on the counter from our last encounter_  
_Pictures snatched out the frame_  
_Bitch I scratched out your name and your face_  
_What is it about you that I can erase, baby?  
_ _When every promise don't work out that way_

Before long, Rick returned to the living room with his glass of eggnog and cognac and her mug of Earl Grey, and this time, she was the one sitting on the floor with a smile on her face. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd missed. "Everything okay?"

She simply held up the book, still beaming. "How long did it take you to find this?"

"A couple of weeks," he shrugged. "About all the libraries had it, but that was the most unique copy."

She set the book down to gratefully accept her tea. "Thank you," she told him, referencing both. "You've been some kind of super dad these past few weeks. And it has not gone unnoticed."

Rick blushed in reply, and tried to offset it with a joke. "Just the last couple of weeks, huh?"

Still smiling, Michonne went on to sip her tea in answer to his question. "You ready to do this?"

"I actually am," he nodded, stepping around her to take a seat in front of the couch. He set his eggnog on one of the end tables, out of the way, and grabbed one of the rolls of kid-themed wrapping paper on display. "I've been practicing."

She quirked an eyebrow, clearly impressed. If he could do more than apply tape, this gift wrapping session would go a lot smoother than the last couple of years. "I dunno, Rick, you have me reconsidering this whole reconciliation thing. You seem much more capable without me around."

He nodded again, knowing she was joking. Or hoping she was, anyway. "I'm just tryin' to be as good as you are at everything."

She had to suppress another smile as she passed him a fairly easy box to wrap. "Let's see how you do with that."

"A Barbie?" he scoffed. "I could wrap this in my sleep."

"Prove it."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rick quickly got to work on wrapping the plastic box while Michonne looked on intently. "You know she said she wanted a sword for Christmas," he casually commented as he began to cut his paper.

Michonne laughed as she swallowed another small gulp of her drink. "Did she really?"

"More than once," he smirked. "I mean, I'm sure Carl could make her one, but…"

"She's six!"

"Well Carl wasn't that much older when he learned how to use a gun."

"He was literally twice her age," she reminded him. "And living in a war zone. Things are different now."

"You think she'll never need to learn to use a weapon?"

"Not _never_ ," she allowed. "Just not… now."

He laughed to himself because he certainly agreed, but he also knew that part of their reluctance was that it was still so hard to accept the fact that Judith was getting older. "She's growin' so fast, I feel like I'm gonna turn around tomorrow and she'll be Carl's age."

Michonne couldn't think of a more accurate statement. "Scares the shit out of me," she admitted. "On the one hand, I adore watching her transform into this little… person. Learning her personality and all her quirks. She actually reminds me of you," she smiled thoughtfully. "So hardheaded."

Rick grinned at her joke as he began folding down the sides of the paper. "But on the other hand…"

"On the other hand, she's growing into a _person_. I think about how one day, when she's a weird, moody teenager, she won't like us as much as she does now, and that kinda breaks my heart."

He nodded thinking of that phase Carl went through, and how hard it was for him. He'd always heard it was ten times worse for mothers and daughters. "You do that with your mom?" he wondered.

"No," she sighed. "Not to say I didn't try it, but Grace wasn't having it." They both quietly chuckled, recollecting the many stories Michonne had told him about her mother, in all her badassness.

"Well somethin' tells me you and Judith won't have that to worry about."

As she watched Rick work, Michonne instinctively rubbed at her flat belly, thinking about the baby that was growing inside of her. It excited her, the idea of getting to be parents all over again. All that nervousness that came with the first pregnancy had dissipated, and her sadness over their situation had, too. She'd gone from dreading telling Rick to anticipating it. She promised herself she would wait until Christmas, but keeping the secret for even a day had her bursting, and maybe even a little happier than she would've been otherwise. She just hoped that after everything, whether they got back together or not, he'd want to keep it. Because she was pretty sure that she wanted to.

"I need your finger," Rick declared, unknowingly interrupting her happy thoughts.

She was quick to oblige, scooting up to the table to assist him with ribbon-tying, using her index finger to hold the thin band in place. She was mildly impressed with the neatness of his wrapping job. "Looks like you can handle this yourself."

"Don't leave," he said, his eyes flitting upward to look her in hers. He wanted her to know that he meant it in every way imaginable. "Please."

_And your heart is broken 'cause I walked away_

Michonne gazed back at him, briefly drowning in those blue pools that he called eyes, before nervously looking back down. She revoked her hand from the wrapped gift just as the ribbon began to close in on her finger. "Did Carl say what time he'd be back?"

"No," he said, lightly scratching the corner of his eye. "But I'm guessing it'll be soon, Enid's supposed to come in tonight." He noted the look on Michonne's face, the way she sighed, but obviously didn't want to say anything. "She's gonna bring the bike," he promised.

She smiled at the fact that he could still read her mind sometimes. "So you're saying I shouldn't call to remind her."

"I think she can handle it," he confirmed, grinning back.

"You have more faith in her than I do."

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, her sarcastic tone giving him pause. He wondered if her time at Hilltop had given her some insight to Enid that he didn't have. "She do somethin'?"

Michonne shook her head and swallowed down more of her tea. "No."

"What'd she do?" he asked, ignoring her answer in favor of her demeanor.

"She didn't _do_ anything. Just… she's said a couple of things that made me… worry."

"Like what?"

She let out another small exhale, knowing that what was said at girls' night probably should've been left there, but it had been at the back of her mind ever since it happened. The parent in her wouldn't let it leave. "She just said she wasn't sure if Carl was 'the one'," she revealed. "He's headed toward marriage, and she's telling him she's not sure."

Rick inhaled deeply, unsure, himself, of what to say. "You think that means she doesn't love him?"

"I don't know," she frowned. "I just don't want him wasting his time."

"Even if they don't stay together, it's not a waste," he offered. "He's been happy. Every day he spends in this relationship is a learning experience, whether it's for a future with Enid, or someone else."

Michonne nodded. She didn't want to give in to that theory, but she also knew she couldn't protect Carl from his own relationship. Same as teaching Judith how to ride a bike, and being willing to let her fall a hundred times, she would have to allow Carl to sink or swim on his own. Besides, she was still just trying to keep her own marriage afloat.

"It's good she recognizes that she has doubts," Rick went on to say, finishing up, finally, with the Barbie. "Most kids rush into things, not even thinkin' about the long run."

"Some adults do too," she shot back in agreement.

He knew that was a dig, but took it in stride, considering he didn't really have a leg to stand on. "Fair enough."

Admiring his apparent new gift for wrapping gifts, Michonne ran her fingers along the perfect edges of the box, twirling the curled ribbon around her index. "I don't just mean you," she said. "I walked out of here thinking more about myself than Judith," she quietly admitted. "I knew it wouldn't be easy to take her away from you, but I didn't really consider how hard it would be."

Rick swallowed hard, the turn in the conversation taking him by surprise. "Well I'm not sure you could've forgiven me if there wasn't any space between us, so… what else were you supposed to do?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Maybe I should've left her with you."

"How would that have been any different?"

"You're right," she conceded with another sharp exhale. "I dunno. I guess now that I'm feeling better, I'm thinking about all the different ways I could've handled it. But space probably was necessary."

"Yeah…"

"I even called you my ex-husband by accident." She gazed at him timidly, waiting for his reaction.

He looked back at her stunned, feeling like he'd just been punched in the face. He didn't reply, but moved to pick up his glass, taking a big swig of his alcohol-infused eggnog.

"I didn't mean it," she assured him. "It was the night I left. I was drunk, and pissed, and it just… slipped out."

Rick bit his lip as he nodded slightly, trying to understand it from her point of view. "I wanna say I didn't realize it was that bad, but…"

She offered him a sheepish smile, brushing her hair behind her ear as she watched him take another drink. "It feels good to be home," she finally admitted to him out loud.

He quirked an eyebrow at her statement, wondering if it meant she was home for good. Hoping so, anyway. Things between them were certainly better, but he knew she was taking things slow, and he was okay with that. "Is that just for the weekend, or…?"

"Well I brought my stuff with me," she said as if it were another question. She still wasn't sure what it all meant, but she was fairly certain that she didn't want to go back to Hilltop.

"Is that so," he asked, though it was more of a statement, glancing out of the window as if he would somehow be able to see her bags in her car. His eyes landed back on his wife as he tried to contain his smile, and he noticed her twisting her wedding ring around her finger, much in the same way that he often did. Her slender, elegant fingers. He wanted so badly to hold her hand in that moment. Instead, he just rested his head against the arm of the couch and continued to look at her. "I'm glad."

"Well good, because it's my Christmas gift to you," she chuckled lightly.

Rick nodded as he laughed back, because he couldn't think of anything better. And maybe someday soon, he would get to hold her hand again, too. "Best gift I could've asked for," he held up his glass. "Thank you."

She shrugged coyly, knowing she still had an ace up her sleeve, which she was saving for the actual holiday. She also held up her half-full mug of tea and smiled as she replied, "Merry Christmas, Rick."

_Show me your scars and I won't walk away_


	15. Every Promise Don't Work Out That Way

"It's snowing," Enid announced groggily, her eyes squinting from the daylight that had forced her out of her sleep. She knew Carl was awake too, based on the fact that he'd stopped snoring in her ear more than ten minutes prior, but he didn't say anything in response. "Did you hear me?" she asked, turning her head toward him.

"I heard you," he yawned back, covering his mouth as he did. "I didn't know that was something I had to respond to."

She rolled her eyes and returned to her position on her side, gazing at the pretty sight of flurries falling past their window into the winter wonderland of the backyard. She reached her hand back and waited for Carl to take it, smiling to herself as he did. Their warm hands intertwined as she rested them both over her chest. "Merry Christmas."

He smiled in reply as he lightly kissed the back of his girlfriend's shoulder. "Merry Christmas."

"It's weird being here at your parents' house," she commented. More specifically, it was weird being in his old room, sleeping in it with him, when once upon a time, not so long ago, she wasn't even allowed in it after dark.

"Remember that time my dad caught us in here," he chuckled quietly, having the same memories, it seemed. "I thought he was gonna shoot me."

"Oh my god, I thought Michonne was gonna kill us both," she giggled, her voice still thick with sleep. "Fuck, we were so dumb."

"Well we were what, sixteen and fifteen? Of course we were dumb."

"True," she granted, her eyes falling closed. "I just remember being so annoyed, because we didn't do anything wrong. But now I think of other fifteen-year-olds, and I'm like, 'Of _course_ they would flip their shit.' But I guess it just always felt like we were so much older than we actually were, if that makes any sense."

"It does," he nodded. Staring across the room, where his old sheriff's hat sat atop his dresser, it was almost hard to believe he wore it for as long as he did. He never quite felt like a kid in the apocalypse, and now that he was 20, he felt closer to 30. "Given how fast we had to grow up, it's probably good we had a few of those stupid teenager moments," he decided.

"That's true," she granted, her fingers lightly grazing his. She could hear footsteps in the room above them, and she wondered if it was Rick or Michonne waking up for the day. Maybe both. Maybe together. "Speaking of your parents," she went on, "you did all that worrying about them, and they seem perfectly fine to me."

He smirked at her attempt to comfort him while also calling him out. "You only saw them for like five minutes."

"I know, but they looked happy," she contended. "I remember Thanksgiving, and it was pretty much the opposite of that."

"No, you're right," he admitted, gently running his thumb along her wrist. "When I was at Tara's last night, I didn't even worry about them at all."

"Do you think they slept together?"

Carl's face immediately contorted into a frown, thinking she must not have realized what she was asking. "Dude."

"Oh, shit, not like that," Enid laughed, covering her blushing face. "I just mean, like, in the same bed or room or whatever."

"Oh," he sighed, relieved that she wasn't losing her mind after all. "I dunno... I'm just glad they're sleeping in the same house at this point."

"The rest will come with time," she agreed, though she was anxious for them to reconcile. Mostly because she hated the way their separation was making Carl feel.

"I'm so fucking relieved," he mumbled with another small smile. "I really don't know what I would've done if they broke up for good."

"I know," she recalled, her eyes closing as she was reminded of the night his dad finally told him what was going on. He was so sad, and she remembered feeling like shit, because there was nothing she could do to help him. "But you know, watching them go through this whole thing... or rather, watching Michonne... as much as it sucked, it was so inspiring to see how she handled it all. I dunno, that's probably weird to say."

"No, you're right," he agreed. "Like, she's the strongest person I ever met," he submitted with a bit of awe in his tone. "And that's saying a lot."

Enid smiled, but quickly shot back, " _You're_ the strongest person I ever met."

"I get it from her," he quietly replied. He continued to nuzzle against her back, ignoring her grey t-shirt in order to leave more short kisses on her shoulder. "And you."

"Liar," she grinned.

"No, I'm serious. I've said it before, how you remind me of her. You guys lost the two most important people in the world to you, and you didn't give up. You guys made a way out of no way, opened up to this weird family. And now you're two of the most important people in my life."

She looked out to the falling snow again as she considered his words. It wasn't the first time he'd compared her to Michonne, and she always dismissed it as him just being sweet, but for the first time in a long time, she was actually listening to him. With marriage being so seriously on her mind, she was listening to everything, really; seeing things in different lights. And watching from afar as his parents' marriage was tested, it gave her a lot of insight into what it took to be in a healthy relationship. And it was what made Enid realize that they had been in one all along. "Hey, can I give you your Christmas gift now?"

He glanced back to look at the clock on his nightstand, noting that it was already past 8:00am. "Okay, but we're gonna have to hurry up. I'm sure Judith will be up soon."

"What time is it," she asked, slowly and hesitantly beginning to climb out of her comfortable spot in bed.

"8:04."

"Then I'm surprised she's not already." Enid moved to where their bag sat on top of his dresser, and began to search for the small box that contained her boyfriend's Christmas gift. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him reach for his eye patch, and she turned back to him. "Don't put it on yet?"

Carl frowned at the request, but ultimately relented, knowing she preferred to see his entire face, flaws and all. He set the patch back on his nightstand as he watched her finally find what she was looking for. Whatever it was fit in the palm of her hand, and she kept it there as she quickly made her way to his side of the bed.

She got down on her knees, resting her weight on the edge of the bed as she gazed at him, taking in his scar along with his remaining eye, smiling at the sight. "You're my best friend," she declared, placing the small box on the bed between them. "And I thought that meant that I didn't love you the way I was supposed to. I was scared that it meant I wasn't _in_ love with you," she went on to say as honestly as she could. "But now I see that you're my best friend because I'm in love with you. And I have been since we were kids." She smiled in spite of herself as she opened the tiny velvet box, and pulled out two identical gold bands, placing them both on her forefinger so that he could get a good look at them. "I picked these out because they looked like your parents' rings," she said, enjoying the look of confusion and contentment on his face. She was unable to contain her smile as she quietly and earnestly asked him, "Will you marry me?"

* * *

"So you're serious about this, huh?" Rick stared at his son from across the kitchen counter, still reeling from the news that his kid, his baby boy, was engaged.

Carl looked down at the marble surface as he shrugged, his happiness showing in his rosy cheeks. "I know you think we're too young, but we're only a couple years younger than Glenn and Maggie were..."

"I don't think you're too young," Rick conceded with raised eyebrows. "Hell, you're way too mature for your age, if you ask me..." The two of them smiled as they picked up their mugs at nearly the same time. "You two've been together so long, I don't know why it's even surprising."

"Well you and Mom certainly looked surprised."

"No, I know. But it's because it was only a year ago that you two moved in together. Still feels like you just left."

"I feel like I've been ready for this since before even then," he nodded. "I've been learning from you since... I dunno, for as long as I can remember."

"I take it you've learned what not to do," he joked, taking a sip of the coffee Michonne had brewed. Rick made a face as he realized how weak it was. "What the hell." He inwardly wondered if she'd somehow forgotten how to operate their coffee machine in her time away from home.

"She was looking for decaf," Carl laughed at his father's disgust. "I think this was her alternative."

He shook his head, glancing at the half full pot they had left. "At any rate, I'm just happy you're happy, son. This was the life we envisioned for you when you were born," he added earnestly, "and for a while there, I didn't think it was gonna happen. I really didn't. But now, here you are."

"It's because of you, Dad," he reminded him. "You never stopped trying to make a life for us, even when we lost home after home after home."

"Remember the storage containers," Rick chuckled, trying not to feel bashful about the praise. But he knew their lives were the result of a lot of hard work from a lot of good people - many of whom were dead now. "God, we had it bad sometimes."

"I think that van on the way up here was worse," Carl grinned back. "It was so hot."

"No, you're right, that was pretty damn awful."

"And Judith was getting so fat, and I had to carry her everywhere."

Rick did well to contain his laughter, but he knew that Judith was only a few feet away, enjoying her new Christmas gifts, and that comment would not go unnoticed. "Why would you say that," he shook his head.

"Because it's true."

As if on cue, Judith was cutting into the conversation, her footsteps already scampering toward the kitchen. "Daddy!" she yelled before she even reached them. "Are you talking about me!"

"I wasn't talking about you," he denied, an impish smile on his face as she entered the room. "Carl was talking about you." Michonne wasn't far behind, and he picked up Judith to set her on the counter so that she was eye level with everyone else in the room. "You talk to him about it."

She did just that, turning to face her big brother with an exaggerated scowl on her face. "Why are you talking about me," she demanded.

"Because I had to carry you from Georgia to Virginia," he said. He began to lightly pinch the back of her arm, knowing it would annoy her. "It wasn't easy, y'know."

"Oh, like nobody helped," Michonne cut in, standing beside Rick in front of their daughter. She brushed a few stray hairs from her face as she looked her in the eye. "Don't let him fool you. Your dad and I had you just as much as he did."

Rick smiled, because it was true, and that was before he and Michonne ever even thought of getting together. She was just always there for them. "And you weren't fat," he added.

"She was chubby," Carl maintained from across the counter, taking another sip of his coffee. When Judith glared back at him, he insisted, "You were."

"Which was a good problem to have at the end of the world," Michonne shot back. "Do not listen to him."

"Mommy says you're too skinny anyway," Judith taunted him.

Michonne could only shake her head as she watched her children devolve into bickering siblings. It wasn't their usual dynamic, given how much older Carl was, but she knew it was probably a symptom of them spending so much time together lately. Either way, it was a nice reminder that Carl would always be their kid, even if he was all grown up. "Listen," she interrupted their nonsense, pointing to the oven clock. "It's almost noon, and people are gonna be here soon."

"Mommy, that rhymed," Judith giggled, but quickly covered her mouth after receiving a firm look from her father.

"People are gonna be here around 4:00," Michonne went on, "and all of you are dirty, except for Enid. And there's wrapping paper all over my living room..."

Rick quietly chuckled at the fact that Michonne was very clearly retaking charge of her home, reclaiming her rightful spot on the throne. "I can get the living room," he offered, looking to Judith knowingly, as she was the culprit for most of the mess. "And you can help."

"The furniture is gonna need some rearranging too," she nodded to him appreciatively.

"I can clean up the kitchen," Carl raised his hand.

"You can shovel the snow," Michonne corrected him. "People are gonna need space to park, so you're gonna have to do the whole block."

"Mom. It's literally freezing out there."

"And that's what coats were made for," she grinned. "I also need you to send Enid to me when you see her."

"So you can put her to work too?"

"She's part of the family now," she retorted as if that conclusion should've been obvious. "I need her to go to the pantry and pick up liquor, so don't dawdle."

"Why can't I do that?"

"You'd rather have your fiancée shovel the street?" Rick questioned him. "You might wanna rethink this whole marriage thing if that's your plan."

"Are you saying she's incapable of doing it? Because that's pretty sexist, Dad."

"Well I don't care which one of you does what," Michonne inserted, smiling sweetly at her son once more. "I just need it done."

"Fine, fine," he surrendered, holding up his hands. "Am I allowed to finish my coffee first?"

"You can do that while you run your sister's bath." She helped Judith down from the counter as she spoke, "She should be done down here by the time it's ready." She watched as he led his sister out of the room, snorting at the two of them when she heard Judith ask him the meaning of 'sexist.'

"She's so funny," Rick laughed, having heard the same.

"The two of them together," she agreed, shaking her head. "Some of the arguments they've had lately..." It was the two of them that went into a comfortable silence as Rick finished his coffee, and Michonne picked at a leftover biscuit from their breakfast, sitting in the middle of the counter. The morning had gone by in such a blur, the news of Carl getting married having overtaken everything else, she realized this was her first moment alone with Rick. "So what's up with this magical gift Judith said you had for me?"

He looked down at the counter, grinning at her description. "I dunno, I think 'magical' might be an overstatement," he said, brushing his falling hair from his face. "But I've got it. It wasn't something I could wrap, so I didn't wanna put it under the tree."

Now she was really curious, but she simply nodded. "Okay."

"I was gonna give it to you this morning, but then the commotion with Carl and Enid happened, and I figured it'd be best to save it for later. After everyone's gone, maybe..."

She smiled, because it struck her, yet again, how alike they were, often thinking the same things at the same time. She'd planned to give Rick the big news that morning, but decided to wait once Carl made his announcement. She wanted to savor the moment, whatever it would be, until they had some time to be alone. "So tonight then?"

He nodded back, trying to retain what little cool he had left as he stood there with his wife. Things felt so normal, and yet not normal at all, considering he was almost afraid to touch her, still unsure whether she wanted him to. He hadn't kissed her in so long, he'd stopped counting the days by then. They were close, yet far away, but not the way it had been. Not when it felt like they were drifting apart. No, instead, it felt as though they were getting closer, and it made him almost giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He couldn't wait for that night.

* * *

Hours later, well after the Grimes' Christmas party had gotten underway, Michonne found herself standing amidst the merry festivities with both an upset stomach and a smile on her face. She'd done her best to engage with anyone that wanted her to listen, but it'd proven to be a difficult task with her evening sickness rearing its ugly head. She felt uncomfortable, as the black and gold dress she'd chosen to wear was a little tighter than she wanted, her swollen breasts showing no mercy to the form-fitting bodice; not to mention her aching feet in the pumps she was sporting. But on the bright side, she knew she looked good, even if she didn't feel it.

And so she watched other people have their fun, drinking and laughing their way through the evening. Her thoughts wandered to the last big party she'd thrown, for Rick's birthday. So much had happened in the seven months since then, it was almost hard to believe she was standing there. Just a week ago, she was living somewhere else, not wanting to set foot in her own home. Now, she was hosting another of her lavish parties as if she hadn't missed a beat. And she knew people were probably wondering what the hell was going on with her and Rick, but aside from a select few close friends, she also knew they wouldn't ask. If she held her head high enough, if she and Rick smiled at each other enough - which they had been doing, not consciously, but genuinely - most folks would be none the wiser.

Michonne continued to make her rounds, ensuring her guests were all appropriately fed and inebriated, all while scanning the party for any sign of Judith, who'd been attached to Carl's hip for most of the evening. But he was sitting in the kitchen with Enid and and another couple, and that little blonde head was nowhere in sight. She turned to find Rick, wanting to ask if he'd seen her, but instead she got Ezekiel, headed straight for her. She innately rolled her eyes, desperately wishing she could have some alcohol to will her through whatever interaction was ahead of her.

"Well hello," he greeted her, retrieving a glass of wine from a nearby tray to offer her. "You're looking quite lovely tonight, miss."

Michonne smiled tensely, accepting the drink she wasn't going to drink. "Thank you."

"It feels as though I haven't seen you in a while." His eyes scanned her face before taking in the rest of her in that stunning dress, her endless legs on display. "How've you been?"

"I've been doing well," she nodded, having to force herself to be amiable under his gaze. "How 'bout you? How are things at The Kingdom?"

"Oh, I can't complain," he grinned. "Can't complain at all. Aside from the fact that we haven't seen you there lately."

She chuckled at the notion that he'd of course noticed. "Just thought I'd take a break from work for the holidays..."

"Now that doesn't sound like you."

She started to ask him how he would know, but she was loath to prolong the conversation any more. "Which is probably why I needed the break."

Ezekiel nodded, noting that despite whatever rumors he'd heard, she was still wearing her wedding band. He'd also observed her with Rick, and things didn't seem especially strained between them, even though it was no secret that she hadn't been at Alexandria for nearly a month. "Is that also why you moved out to Hilltop?" he pressed. "Taking a break?"

Michonne frowned at the inference, and clutched her glass a little tighter, holding her glass a bit higher to make the ring on her finger even more apparent. "It is..."

"And you and Rick are all good," he surmised.

"Better than ever." And she smiled, because it was the truth. Aside from the fact that they hadn't kissed, much less, done anything else, in weeks that felt like months at that point. But they were getting something of a fresh start, while still holding on to the years of history between them, and she couldn't think of anything better. Michonne continued to survey the party for someone that could save her, relieved when she noticed Judith near the steps with Hershel and William, with Sasha watching them. "Would you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Of course," he granted, stepping out of her way.

She smiled politely, and took off to join her daughter, but she was equal parts startled and grateful when Jesus intervened, stepping in to join her in her walk toward the front of the room. He slyly took her wine and handed her a glass of water instead. "Looked like you could use this," he offered, setting the Pinot on a random open table.

She chuckled at his quickness, as she figured he was probably onto her secret, given his tendency to notice literally everything. "And what made you think that?" she asked anyway.

He had a playful gleam in his blue-green eyes as he escorted her further away from Ezekiel. "I see things."

"Well that's not creepy or anything."

"Oh, I completely own my creepiness," he grinned back. They settled on an open wall, the two of them casually leaning against it to continue their banter. "How are you feeling?"

Michonne shrugged and took a sip of her water, not wanting to get too far into any details before she told Rick about it. "I'm all right. Everything just feels better now that I'm at home."

"So you are home," he asked hopefully. "Things are good?"

"They're good," she confirmed, still smiling from behind her glass. "You missed all the bad stuff."

"Or the good stuff, as some might say."

She flippantly rolled her eyes at the thought. "Speaking of said bad stuff, where's your friend tonight?"

Jesus recoiled from the question, knowing she was referring to Magna, and he gazed back at her, insulted. " _My_ friend?"

"You're the one who found her."

"You and Rick let her stay," he quipped.

"Fair enough," she smirked. Her eyes landed on Maggie, across the room with Carl, and she smiled at them both. "But you can't deny you talked to her more than I ever did."

"No, I cannot deny that," he admitted reluctantly. He hated knowing that one of the people he recruited had brought so much pain to his friend. It was the very thing he tried to avoid when scouting people. "You know, she actually called me a couple of days ago, I think to see if you'd really left Hilltop."

Michonne laughed, shaking her head at the unsurprising news. "Well I hope you told her she can come back home..."

"I didn't know what to say, because I wasn't sure whether you were coming back," he shrugged. "I'm honestly shocked that you're asking about her," he added. "Would you have actually wanted her here?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "But she's a part of the community. I'm not gonna blacklist her or anything."

"You could." His expression was the facial equivalent of another shrug as he tried to think of anyone that would particularly care. "I don't think anyone would mind."

She only shook her head again, giving his arm a small, playful swat. "You're terrible."

"You don't have to take the high road _every_ time, you know."

"Don't I?" she retorted with a raised eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her water.

He didn't miss the glint in her eye as she said so. "Or maybe... you wanted her here?"

"Now why ever would I want that?"

"Oh, I dunno," he shrugged, playing along with her feigning ignorance. "I can't imagine why you'd want your enemy to know that you're doing just fine."

She chuckled in reply, a hint of derisory in her tone, but ultimately, she denied the assertion. "No, I'm kidding. I may have some petty impulses, but I'm not that bad."

"I didn't think so."

"Of course, I wouldn't have been _mad_ if that'd been her takeaway from the evening."

"And with that, you prove that you're just as bad as I am."

"Oh, not even close," she denied, narrowing her eyes at him. "Particularly because I at least don't go around calling myself Jesus while being a terrible person." The two of them were so engaged in their laughter and conversation, they hadn't even noticed Maggie's approach, which jolted Michonne as she felt her friend's hand on her back, only causing her to laugh even harder.

"Well it looks like someone is back to their old self," Maggie was happy to say as she joined her buddies. "The last time you looked even remotely this happy, you were three sheets to the wind."

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone about that," Michonne reminded her, wrapping an arm around her waist to welcome her into the conversation. "You don't listen to her."

"I didn't hear anything," Jesus promised, grinning at the two of them. They looked like sisters, despite them looking absolutely nothing alike. "By the way, I hear congratulations are in order, what with your kids getting married and all."

Maggie smiled at Michonne, realizing that they'd yet to discuss the big news. Granted, Enid was more like her little sister, but she did take care of her in the way that a mother would, and she had every intention of acting as mother of the bride when the wedding rolled around. "I'd say we're gonna be family now, but... truth is, we always were."

Michonne grinned back, feeling as though that had been more true than ever over the previous month. Maggie had been her rock when she was in a particularly hard place. "I love you," she submitted, and her tone was so matter-of-fact, it didn't even sound like she meant it. But it _was_ a fact, plain and simple.

"Oh, I love you, too," she sighed, resting her head on her friend's shoulder. "I miss havin' you at Hilltop."

"No you don't," Michonne snorted, knowing Maggie had to be relieved to finally have her own space again. She certainly was herself.

Maggie laughed back, recalling things getting just the tiniest bit tense toward the end of her stay. "I really did love havin' you there. 'Specially with Glenn gone, you were doin' me a favor, too."

"Where is he, anyway?" Jesus asked. "I figured for sure he would be back by Christmas."

"Got delayed," she shrugged. "I talked to him when we got here, he was somewhere in Ohio. Tryin' to get home by tomorrow or Wednesday."

Michonne comfortingly rubbed Maggie's back as she made a sad face at the news. "I'm sorry," she told her. "You know you and the kids are welcome to come stay here if you want," she joked.

"I wouldn't dare," Maggie was quick to decline. Michonne had been back home for all of a day - even if she did need the company, she would be damned if she didn't give her and Rick the space to enjoy it. "Oh wait, unless… you need me to?" she questioned cautiously.

"No," she quickly retorted with a small frown. "Nothing like that."

Maggie eyed her friend, considering that that was likely good news for their marriage then. "So then you two are okay, I take it?"

Michonne immediately nodded, her eyes already involuntarily searching the room for Rick, finding him in practically the same breath. He was standing with Carol, not talking, but people-watching; watching her in particular, it appeared. His eyebrows raised when he caught her eye, and he had a lazy smile on his face, so she knew he was just a little bit tipsy, which only made her smile back at him. He looked so handsome, dressed up in all black with that silver beard. She found herself craving to be alone with him, even if just to talk. She just wanted to be close to him again. "We're okay," she told Maggie. "In fact, we're good."

* * *

Michonne stood on the front porch of her home, leaned against its railing as she quietly looked through the pictures she'd taken of her family throughout the night. More snow had fallen since the party began, and Rick ended up bringing Judith outside to build a snowman - or some version of one, at least. Eventually, Carl came out to join them, and it morphed into more of a snowball fight, but it all photographed quite beautifully. Taking in the smile on Judith's face as she gleefully played with her father and brother, it put a lump in Michonne's throat. And she wished she could've just chalked it up to hormones making her cry like a baby, but no, it was the moment. It was seeing her darling daughter as happy as she possibly could've been, after the hell she'd put her through. She did nothing but worry about the choices that she made, and how they would affect her kids, but Judith's face in those photos confirmed for her that she'd done exactly the right thing by coming home.

She continued to scroll through the many pictures, noticing how happy Rick looked, too, as he and the kids built their ridiculously lopsided snowman. She got butterflies in her stomach as she regarded his childlike grin, because she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so happy. Their wedding day, perhaps. In those snapshots, she felt like she could see the man she'd married, her heart skipping beats as she stared at him. Something about him with Judith, especially, always gave her that particular flutter. Perhaps because him being a good father was a large part of the reason she was drawn to him in the first place.

It wasn't very long before the back door opened, and Michonne could hear the sounds of the party inside - mostly the music - as she waited for her company to speak. She figured it had to be Rick, or perhaps she just hoped it was, but turned to make sure when she heard the footsteps move toward her. She smiled as she confirmed it was him, and he was carrying her coat.

"It's not that cold out," she declared, turning back to the view of their snow-covered yard.

"Yeah, well, Judith insisted." He carefully draped the coat over her shoulders and moved to stand beside her.

"Sure, blame it on the kid," she chuckled, glancing at the side of his face. She was glad he didn't listen when she said he should shave because his beard looked like wintertime. It did, but in a decidedly good way, now that she was no longer mad at him. His grey beard framed his pink lips quite perfectly, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch them. Him. Instead, she laughed to herself at her silly wandering thoughts.

Oblivious, he glanced over to her curiously. "What's so funny?"

"I'm laughing at myself," she admitted, shaking her head. "But also, this has gotta be the worst snowman I've ever seen in my life."

Rick chuckled too, because he'd been thinking the same as he stood there gazing at the abysmal thing. Not only was it small and completed disproportionate, but they hadn't even gotten around to giving it any facial features. "I don't remember it looking this bad a couple of hours ago. Did some of it melt?"

"No," she continued to giggle. "I tried to tell you guys it was fucked up when you made it."

"You did," he nodded. "Of course we ignored you because you couldn't even bother to help us out."

"Excuse me, I was taking pictures," she reminded him, feigning seriousness in her tone. "Much more important than your ugly snowman."

"You and your pictures," he smirked. It was then he noticed the camera she had literally attached to her wrist. "Can I see 'em?"

"Of course." She pulled the device from her wrist and handed it over to him, while he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. Such a far cry from the man a month ago that was keeping so many secrets, she had to steal his phone so she could go through it stealthily. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Look at the last couple pictures," he instructed, doing the same as he turned on their digital camera.

Michonne quietly gasped when she went to Rick's camera roll and found a small collection of photos from just a few minutes ago. Judith was seated in a corner of the house, all by herself, happily reading _The Velveteen Rabbit_. She looked so heart-wrenchingly cute in her little red dress and her sandy blonde curls framing her round face. "Are you trying to kill me?" she joked.

Rick flinched at her choice of words, recalling the very different context she'd used when things went awry between them. But he recovered quickly and flicked from the current picture to the next one, where Judy was actually smiling as she read, which might've been the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. "Look at that face," he grinned, the two of them staring at their daughter.

Like Judith, Michonne's smile was uncontainable as she gazed at the shot. "God, she's so cute."

"And just imagine, you and I had _nothing_ to do with it."

She snorted loudly in response, unable to suppress her laughter as she leaned in to him, but not before lightheartedly punching him in the arm. She loved how witty he could be, even when what he was saying was terrible. "Stop it."

"It's true," he maintained, though even he couldn't keep a straight face as he said it.

"We got lucky," she shrugged. Against her better judgement, she mindlessly began to swipe through more of the pictures, just to see what else he'd observed throughout the party, but she stopped when she heard a burst of laughter from inside, and both of them glanced back to see what they were missing. Ezekiel was at the center of the room, probably doing a magic trick or something equally absurd. "He's such a show off," she quietly remarked, noticing the door was still slightly ajar.

Rick smirked as he noted the disdain in her voice. "What'd he say to you?"

"What?"

"I noticed you were talkin' earlier. Just wondering if he did somethin' to piss you off."

"Oh," she frowned, barely even recalling the conversation. "It was just his usual... I don't even know. Flirting, I suppose."

"Hm."

"He seemed to think I might've been available since he heard I was living at Hilltop."

"So he thought it was a good idea to come to my house and try to make his move," he nodded. "That's interesting."

Michonne enjoyed the obvious undercurrent of irritation in his voice, but she was surprised by how calm he seemed in spite of it. Perhaps he'd finally learned to take Ezekiel as seriously as she did - which was to say, not at all. "You just happened to notice us talking, huh?" she teased him.

"That's all it was," he promised. "I was actually looking for Carol..."

"Uh huh."

The two of them were simply beaming, both enjoying the fact that their light, sarcastic rapport was still in tact after a month of being apart. Of being at odds. Things were mostly where they'd left them.

It was then that the snow began to fall again, tiny flakes calmly flurrying past them in a perfect cap to the quiet Christmas evening. "In a Sentimental Mood" began to play from inside the house, but it was loud enough for the two of them to hear, and Rick smiled over at his wife. She looked so gorgeous under the glow of the moon and the holiday lights that decorated their deck. He briefly wondered what she would've done if he leaned in to kiss her then. Her lips looked so pretty, painted in red lipstick - like a present in themselves. God, how he'd missed those lips. "Dance with me?" he whispered, wanting to take advantage of the song, even if he couldn't take full advantage of the moment.

Michonne looked up at him, obviously lost in her own thoughts, and she smiled a bit timidly. "What?"

He held out his hand, relaying how sincere he was about the proposition. "Dance with me."

"You don't dance," she shook her head, unsure of what was happening.

"I dance with you."

She couldn't deny that was true, even if it was only at their wedding and on very rare, silly occasions in their living room. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he insisted, finally just taking her hand. He pulled her close, and he held her waist with one hand, while trying to keep her coat in place with the other.

But as she wrapped her arms around his neck, it fell to the wet balcony floor, and she shook her head. "I don't need it," she said, beginning to sway with him to the slow, jazzy tune. The title was so appropriate, as she was in quite the sentimental mood, dancing with her husband in the snow. She felt no cold, and more importantly, she felt warmth, she felt comfort, as she melted into him.

Rick closed his eyes as they rocked back and forth, letting his feet guide them around in small circles. He felt when she rested her head against his chest, and wondered if she could feel his heart racing. He felt like he was falling in love with her all over again - not quite sure what he was doing, but letting the moment take them wherever it wanted. He was nervous and at ease all at once, and it was the greatest feeling, not knowing what was going to happen next, and being okay in that. Not fearing it, but excited for it.

After a few minutes, Michonne gazed up at him, those baby blues boring into her, daring her to look away. And she didn't - she wouldn't have, even if she could've. But she saw her entire life gazing back at her in those eyes, and she moved her hand to touch his face, her thumb rubbing across his warm cheek. Her mind was rushing, telling her, begging her, to just kiss him - the moment practically demanded it. But then she began to wonder if this was the right time to instead tell him the secret she'd been holding onto for almost two days now. They were alone, after all, and the intimate setting was ideal for that news, too. But before she could make a decision to do either, the front door went swinging open, an intoxicated Abraham on the other side, looking for them to rejoin the festivities.

"Unless you two are out here takin' the hot dog to taco town, I'm gonna need you to get your asses back inside," he declared quite loudly and proudly. "People are ready to go and they can't find their hosts."

Reluctantly, Rick and Michonne separated, though looking back at each other longingly, deflated by the moment they'd lost. But then, the night certainly wasn't over, and with their guests beginning to leave, they'd be able to pick up where they left off sooner than later. "To be continued," Michonne whispered, her voice so low she wasn't even sure Rick could hear her.

But indeed he did, smiling as he followed her inside, his eyes lingering on her long legs as he watched her walk away. "To be continued..."


	16. Forward

The clock had just struck 12:00 as Rick made his way back through the front door after taking out the garbage. He was welcomed by the back of Michonne's head, where she was sitting on the couch, rubbing her bare feet. Their home was still a bit of a mess, as they'd only done some rough cleaning once all their guests were finally gone, but that would have to be enough for the night. He was ready to sit down, too.

"I was wondering where you went," Michonne greeted him, feeling the cool air from the closing door. "Still snowing?"

"Yep," he sighed. He kicked off his wet shoes at the door, and moved around the sofa to join her, letting out another exhausted exhale as he plopped down beside her. "Hopefully everyone gets home safe."

She made a mental note to text Maggie later, but was thankful she didn't have to worry about Carl and Enid, just a few feet away. Resting her head against the back of the couch, she turned to Rick with a genial grin on her face. "You tired?"

"Yeah…" he nodded definitively. "The older I get, the more I realize I need to be in bed by 10:00."

Michonne laughed, because she felt exactly the same. It was hard to imagine that there was a time where they went actual days without sleep. Of course, back then, they didn't have a choice. "I went upstairs to change out of my dress, but didn't wanna disturb Judith, so I stopped myself. Then I realized I was jealous of her for being asleep already."

Rick chuckled at her anecdote, though he couldn't help but consider what the alternative might be to her sleeping in Judith's room in that case. But he didn't say anything more, not wanting to get ahead of himself. "So is this your way of telling me to hurry up and give you your gift?"

"Well I didn't wanna ask _again_ ," she admitted with a coy grin. Her happy eyes studied him for what felt like the hundredth time that night, focusing this time on his arms. She loved when he rolled up his sleeves, showing off his veiny forearms. His gold watch and wedding ring only complemented the look.

"I'll go get it," he said, already sitting forward, "but you're gonna have to close your eyes."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"I told you it isn't wrapped..."

She sighed dramatically, but didn't really mind at all – she was excited, in fact. "Fine." She tried to contain her smile as she felt him move from the couch, listening as his soft footsteps took him away, to what sounded like the downstairs bathroom. He returned just a few seconds later, her grin growing when he passed by, and she noticed that he smelled of hints of her perfume. "This better be good," she remarked, listening to him shuffling around her. It was just another few seconds before she heard him set something, presumably the gift, on the coffee table.

"All right," he declared, and there was a smile in his voice, too.

She slowly opened her eyes, feeling like they were deceiving her when she found her beloved cat sculpture – the one she'd taken from some random bar in Rick's hometown – staring back at her. She gasped, both confused and surprised at the sight. It was like seeing a ghost. "What the hell," she chuckled, gazing at it in disbelief. "Where in god's name did you find this?"

"I made it," he was happy to announce.

Michonne took the sculpture into her hands, and upon closer inspection, she could see where the colors were ever-so-slightly different, the shape a tad bit askew, but she was so impressed by the perfectly executed patchwork pattern, and the fact that he had done it all from memory. "Why?"

"I dunno." He reclaimed his seat next to her, relieved that she seemed to like it. "I just... I guess when you're lookin' at what may be the end of your relationship, you start thinkin' about the beginning. And I remembered it," he nodded as he stared at the wonderfully colorful art piece. "I remembered the day you got it, and Carl said you were one of us. We didn't know it, but our lives had changed irrevocably that day, I think. ...I think that was the day our family began," he added.

Michonne felt those stupid tears surfacing again as she nodded at his assessment, recounting that fateful trip to King County like it was yesterday. It was when Carl, and by extension, Rick, let her into the group, and also the day she realized that she not only needed to stay with them, but she _wanted_ to. "You're right," she agreed quietly.

"But then you lost it with the prison," Rick continued, "and I remembered us talking about it on the way to Terminus. I always thought, maybe one day when things calmed down, I could go back to the prison and try to find it for you. ...And then we left Georgia, so..."

"You mean you weren't willing to drive back down to Georgia to see if it's there?" she simultaneously smiled and sniffled.

"It sounds crazy to say this, but I did think about it."

"Oh, shut up."

"Not just for that, but just... to see what's left. To see if anything'd changed."

She nodded again, thinking about the many transformations they'd been through as people. "At the heart, it's probably still the same," she offered, her fingers tracing over the blue squares of the paint. "I can't believe you did this."

"Well Judith helped," he made sure to inform her. "And she was very specific about what colors went where, even though she's never seen the original thing before in her life."

"That's my kid," she laughed. She set her gift back on the table, gazing at it with the fond memory of how she would often fall asleep staring at it back at the prison. It was one of few pretty things left in the world at the time. "Thank you for this," she told Rick genuinely, sitting back so that she could look him in the eye as she said so. But his gripping gaze held her there, effectively recreating the moment they'd been robbed of on their porch a few hours before. Her eyes dropping to his lips, it only took her a split second to decide how she wanted this one to end.

_Forward_  
_Best foot first just in case_

Considering how many times he'd seen that look before, Rick took that as his cue, and he leaned in to kiss his wife. He was reticent at first, his nerves causing him to second-guess the signals he thought he was picking up, and he went for a short peck to start things off. But just the tiniest taste of her heavenly, pillowy lips, and he was desperate for more. He held the back of her head and deepened the kiss, smiling amidst it when she was the one to offer her tongue first. He could already feel his excitement building in the form of an erection as their tongues did their dance, their lips and noses smashed together as they sucked the air from one another. She tasted like peppermint and smelled like cocoa butter, driving his senses wild.

Michonne felt those butterflies again as she melted into her husband, making out with him for the first time in much too long. Her fingers frantically laced through his curls as he cupped her face, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in their kiss. His hot, wet mouth claiming hers, she was turned on beyond belief, and she found herself itching for more, while a bigger part of her wanted them to take their time. To enjoy this reunion. But when she felt his strong hands on her waist, the sound of him quietly moaning into her mouth, she wasn't sure how long she would last.

Without breaking contact, Rick adeptly laid Michonne on her back and positioned himself between her legs, his hands already moving down her bare thighs as they continued their tongue wrestle. Her skin was so soft, such a delicious contrast to her beautifully muscled thighs, the pads of his fingers enjoying every single curve of them. He'd memorized them once upon a time, and how good it felt to explore them again. He felt himself in a haze as he sucked at her plump lips and she licked at his. He would've been happy to do exactly this all night long, despite his dick saying otherwise. He just wanted to be close to her again.

Michonne was the first to pull out of their steamy liplock, feeling as though she couldn't breathe. In a good way, though - in the way where he'd taken her breath away. The urgency in his kiss reminded her of their first time together. In fact, nearly everything about the moment did, down to the fact that she could feel his hard bulge pressing into her thigh as he lapped at her throat, and she knew exactly where this was headed. And it was precisely what she wanted, or so she thought, until flashes of him with Magna seemed to hit her all at once. She distinctly recalled him divulging that they, too, kissed on her couch, and the conjured up images were suddenly flooding her brain. Her smile disappeared and she found herself frowning when Rick's lips moved from her neck back up to her mouth as he attempted to kiss her once more.

He immediately noticed the shift in her demeanor, the fact that her grip on his hair had loosened, and he pulled back to look at her. "You okay?" he questioned, worried and breathless.

She stared into his clearly concerned eyes, her fingers caressing his face as she tried to push her surfacing emotions back down; this insecurity that he'd caused in her. She wanted it to go away, because she wanted this, wanted him, badly. "I don't know," she said honestly. She rested her hands on his bare arms, not wanting him to move yet. "I just... I thought about you and her, and it fucked me up."

Rick hung his head in a mixture of shame and disappointment, but he nodded, understanding her position. He could remember feeling the same way with Lori, having to actively force himself past those lingering thoughts that seemed intent on taunting him. "We're moving too fast," he realized, pulling back to sit up on his knees. "It's gonna take a while for us to get back... there."

Michonne pouted as he moved from between her legs, hating that they were losing yet another moment. "I'm sorry," she offered. "I really don't wanna wait."

He shook his head, holding onto her raised knee, his thumb caressing her skin. "Don't apologize."

"Well, I mean, it's kinda your fault, so I'm not _really_ apologizing," she smiled, joking. "But you were clearly ready to go," she added as she eyed the giant bulge in his pants, "and I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"I'll live," he shrugged.

She sighed as she sat up on her elbows, and she wished things didn't suddenly feel so stilted between them. The awkwardness in their relationship was the most jarring thing, considering how close they'd been for so long now. They'd spent years building this bond, creating a marriage that included a healthy, uninhibited sex life. Now, it felt like they were back at square one.

_When we made our way 'til now_  
_It's time to listen, it's time to fight_

Rick watched his wife for a moment, picking up on the way she was blankly staring at the coffee table, and he could tell she was still thinking about it, likely still picturing him with another woman. He wished he could take it away, take back what he'd done, but knew it was a useless endeavor. He could only hope that with time, they'd truly get to move past it. "You think you could sleep in our room tonight?" he asked cautiously. "In our bed?"

_Forward_

Michonne's eyes darted up at him, startled from her rampant thoughts, smiling at the suggestion. "I can do that," she nodded, trying to find satisfaction in that alternative. "You gonna be able to walk?"

"That's very funny," he grinned, relieved that she was still in a jokey mood, despite the small rift. He stood from the sofa, albeit very carefully, and offered his hand to help her up.

"Please tell me this all feels as weird to you as it does to me," she chuckled, accepting his assistance.

"It does." Hand-in-hand, the two of them moved toward the steps, Rick leading the way, very much the same as he did their first night together. "But we'll get back to normal." He hoped.

_Now we're gonna hold doors open for a while_  
_Now we can be open for a while_

Michonne appreciated the confidence in his voice as he said it, grinning at him and the view she had of his cute little ass as she followed him up the steps. "I appreciate you being patient with me," she made sure to say. She felt a bit dazed, as if she were walking into a dream, as they turned the corner into their bedroom. It'd been so long, she'd almost forgotten all the tiny details she had memorized. Letting go of his hand as her feet hit the carpet, she stared around the dimly-lit space to reacquaint herself with it all. She chuckled at the empty dresser top, save for the jewelry box in the corner, just as she'd left it. The bed was made to perfection, though the striped grey and ivory bedspread was a new touch.

"You've been shopping?" she wondered, watching him head across the room toward said dresser.

"A little." He turned back to her as he began to unbutton his button-down shirt. "You want somethin' to sleep in?"

"Yes," she answered emphatically, though she didn't miss the flirtatious gleam in his eye as he undressed in front of her. "And so do you."

Still smirking, he turned to grab a set of flannel pajamas from one of the bottom drawers, throwing the top half across the room so that they landed on the bed in front of her. "That enough?"

With her eyes drawn to his naked torso peeking out from his open shirt, Michonne barely heard his question, but answered anyway. "Mm-hm." She was slow to refocus on the task at hand, but quickly realized she would need help getting out of her dress. She sauntered across the room until she was standing in front of Rick, turning her back to him. "Unzip me?"

Without hesitation, he brushed her long hair over her shoulder and pulled down the zipper of her dress until it stopped just above her backside, revealing her entire naked back to him. Her skin looked so delectable, he had to actively stop himself from touching her. His hard-on was just starting to go back down, and now it was in danger of making a grand return.

Silently, she walked back to the other side of the room to step out of her dress, leaving them both in only their underwear. And the tension in the room could be cut with a knife as Michonne removed her bra, while Rick traded his boxers for his pajama pants. He was trying not to look, but then, was there a point in not looking? He'd seen her naked hundreds of times. They were in this strange limbo that neither of them knew what to do with.

_Forward_

"I bet this was what it was like when soldiers returned home from war," Michonne commented, feeling the same discomfort. She was nervous, and he obviously was too, which wasn't something she was used to when it came to Rick in the bedroom.

He let out a slight scoff, imagining that that was probably true, and he so wished that he hadn't been the one to cause the war between them. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth," he informed her, already headed for the door.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on him until he disappeared from the room, and she took a seat on her side of the bed. As she looked around the room, trying to force herself to be comfortable – an oxymoron if there ever was one – she immediately noticed the springiness of the mattress as she settled into it. It could've been just the lack of time she'd spent in her bed lately, but she remembered so vividly how the box spring would squeak whenever one of them climbed into bed. She may have forgotten certain things about her home, like mixing up the trash pickup day, or how hot the entire upstairs floor would get when they tried to turn on the heat, but that very specific detail was so clear in her mind. And so she hopped out of bed to pull back the covers, then the fitted sheet, confirming her suspicions of a new mattress set. And she could only laugh, because she vaguely recalled Rick promising her that that very thing. She never imagined, though, that he would follow through on that agreement. Especially considering everything going on between them.

It was a necessary reminder of the type of man he was. The husband he was. He was thoughtful, sometimes in the most unexpected moments. He cared about her, her needs, her wants. He had a moment of selfishness, but she was well aware that wasn't his true nature. No, he was good. And his heart was big. And all the other things she'd told Magna that day at Hilltop. He made her happy. And she didn't know why she was allowing this minor event, in a marriage of mostly good times, to take up any more space in her life.

_I love you more than this job, please don't work for me_

A couple of minutes later, Rick returned to the room to find Michonne sitting on their new bed, smirking at him as he entered. He could guess that she'd noticed the difference, but he couldn't quite decode the look on her face. "What is it?" he asked as he shut the door behind him.

"You've been busy," she noted.

"Yeah...," he admitted, an eyebrow raised suspiciously when he still wasn't sure how she felt about it. "What about it?"

"You got me a bed."

She was smiling then, which made him blush, happy to confirm that she liked her second Christmas gift. "I told you I would."

"Come here," she whispered. She was unabashedly staring at his bare chest instead of his face, as she wanted to make it clear that she was back in the mood, and she hoped he was, too. In fact, as he moved to approach her, her eyes danced downward, enjoying the perfect view she had of his rippled stomach. And his pants hung off of his slender hips just enough to make her mouth water; but then the imprint of his dick in the soft flannel fabric made her wet elsewhere. She was most definitely ready to go this time.

_Forward_

Oblivious, Rick took a seat on the bed beside Michonne, hopeful that she perhaps wanted to talk their way through the oddness between them. But instead, she swiftly moved from the bed to the floor, kneeling in front of him, confusing him in the process. "What are you doin'?" He whispered it as if they were in public and he couldn't believe she was pulling at his pants.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She nodded for him to lift his hips so she could get those pajamas out of her way.

His body intuitively followed her direction, but he still had questions. He'd thought about this so many times in the prior month, he couldn't even be certain this was really happening. "Are you sure?" he asked. But as he felt her long fingers take hold of his soft cock, words seemed to be finding his brain a lot slower then. "We... don't..."

Pausing to to tie her stray locs at the back of her head, Michonne smirked at the fact that he was already into it when she'd barely gotten started. She dragged her gaze from his handsome face, down to his equally attractive dick as she pumped it in her hands, preparing it for her mouth. She remembered one of the last times she tried to give him a blow job and he couldn't even get it up for her. It was clear they wouldn't be having that problem tonight. "You okay up there?" she questioned, noticing he hadn't finished his sentence.

"Yeah," he grunted. Her hands felt like magic on his throbbing cock. "I just wanna make sure... you wanna do this," he finally said. "We don't have to rush."

Michonne looked up at him as she stood from the floor, placing herself squarely in front of him so that his face was eye level with her chest. Slowly and deliberately, she took his right hand and guided it between her thighs as she ran her free hand through his hair. "I'm sure," she promised.

His eyes clouded with lust when he felt how wet she was over the fabric of her panties. Without warning, he pushed the elastic lining out of his way to sneak his fingers inside, smiling at the surprise on her face as he did. Her pussy was so soft, he nearly came from just the first touch, his fingers roaming over the small patch of hair that covered her, slipping into her slick folds.

Michonne quietly moaned as she took Rick's lead and climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. While she had every intention of sucking his dick, as that usually got her off too, she wasn't going to complain if he wanted to do her first.

Rick held onto her ass with his free left hand, watching her face, the way her eyes slowly closed and she began to bite her lip as he softly caressed her. He could feel her clit protruding from her full lips, and he pressed it like a button, making her writhe against him, her breathing getting heavier as he did. He began to kiss her neck as his thick middle finger penetrated her warm center, sliding it in and out of her teasingly. She was so tight, she could feel every motion, and she began to ride him, encouraging him to add his forefinger.

"Mmm," she quietly purred near his ear. His hard dick was brushing the underside of her thigh, and his fingers were driving her crazy. "Rick..." She was getting so wet, she would be dripping into his hand soon, but both of them were too absorbed by the moment to notice. He was so turned on by her low moans as he continued to rub softly through her every crevice. She felt so fucking good to him. And she cupped his face, pulling him into another slow, passionate kiss, her tongue locking with his. His lips, god his lips, swollen from their earlier make out, were so succulent, she didn't want to let go; didn't want to come up for air.

But it was Rick who pulled away, his fingers soaked, and he was desperate to taste more of her. He wanted to feel her tits in his mouth as he fingered her. "Unbutton your shirt," he instructed, his warm breath bathing her face as he stared at her.

Michonne could only nod, her mind barely processing his words as he worked her gently, his thumb massaging her clit. He always knew exactly how to get her going, and she was almost there. Her fingers fumbled to undo the buttons of her shirt, slowly revealing her soft, supple tits, her nipples already protruding through the fabric before she could finish. Pregnancy had made her breasts sensitive, and she wasn't sure what to expect when Rick took one into his hand and wrapped his mouth around the other. But his hot tongue on her skin, his soft sucking and light licking, felt like fucking heaven. She smiled at the way he played with her tits like it was his first experience with them, giving them extra attention, rolling his finger around the rigid bud of one, while his tongue took its time, tenderly lapping at the other.

"Shit," she moaned, her chin grazing the top of his head, her fingers tangled in his curls. She felt him move to the other nipple as her first orgasm washed over her, a mini explosion that rendered her lower body useless as he gradually moved out of her. She could hear him licking his sticky fingers while his left hand worked to finish undressing her, seductively pulling her sleeve down her shoulder.

Holding onto her waist, Rick's hungry stare took her in, thinking about just how much he loved fucking her, loved seeing her naked, loved all of this. He gazed her up and down with his signature squint, finally noticing the way her breasts seemed to stand a bit fuller than usual. Her dark brown skin and even darker areolas, glistening in the dim light from his saliva, her nipples still hard from the cool air on top of it. They seemed bigger, somehow. But they looked so appetizing, he didn't think much of it, going in for another sucking.

Michonne snuck her hand between them to massage his dick, adoring the feel of his warm flesh in her fingers. She wanted to taste him so badly. "Let me do you," she whispered.

He was reluctant to let her leave his lap, enjoying the closeness between them. It had been so long, they'd been so far away from one another, he was ready to go in that very position. But the look on her face said she wanted this, and he certainly wasn't going to begrudge her that. He released his grip on her hips, allowing her to sink to the floor between his legs, smirking at her as she stared up at him. Those eyes. They were locked on him; she was fucking him with her gaze and she knew it, he knew it, making his dick jump in her hand excitedly.

She couldn't help but laugh as her eyes darted to his big cock, the pink tip already slick with his pre-cum. She licked her lips before moving in to lick him, smiling when she felt him shiver at first contact. She felt right back at home with his salty skin on her tongue, her left fingers gently massaging his balls. Her other hand milked his shaft as she listened to him grunt with delight. She matched his groans with moans of her own, muffled as she took more of him into her mouth. She loved but hated how big he was when erect, knowing it was a struggle to fit him – in her mouth and other places – but she appreciated the challenge.

Rick was already at the edge of sanity as his wife's lips devoured him, damn near swallowing him whole. As she let him go, her tongue went swirling around his length on the way back up, and he thought he was going to die. He wanted to watch her work, but his eyes could only focus on the ceiling, trying to hold on just a little while longer. "Fuck..." he sighed when her mouth moved to his balls. She sucked at them like they were candy, then licked his cock like a lollipop, alternating between the two for minutes on end. "Baby..."

Michonne smiled at the pet name as she worked. He didn't call her that often, and it usually made her wet when he did - especially in that tone, that low growl, knowing she was making him happy as hell. "Come on," she coaxed him, ready whenever he was.

He wanted to let go, but he was also enjoying it too much to allow himself to. Not yet. Her hand was slowly pumping him, while her tongue tickled his head with softest of licks, making his body writhe beneath her. Her free hand was rubbing at his thigh, only making it worse for him, and therefore, better. "'Chonne," he whispered, feeling himself at the end of his rope. He always tried to warn her, but after a month without any sort of escape, he wasn't sure he could even prepare her for what was coming.

But she knew what that meant; after five years, she was familiar with all the signs of his impending release - his slack jaw, his inability to finish a sentence or focus on her any longer, the way he was practically thrusting into her mouth. It was her favorite thing to make him lose all semblance of control, completely at her mercy. She was making herself wet just watching him. He was so undeniably hers in that moment. "Mmm," she mumbled quietly, her mouth still full of him. She was so turned on by it all.

Reminded that that was what he _really_ wanted to do, Rick let himself go with a final guttural grunt, ejaculating into her mouth with reckless abandon. He fell back into the bed, listening to her moans as she slurped his cum, and he knew it wouldn't take much for him to go hard again. Something about the sound of it, imagining the sight of his semen running down her perfect lips, it drove him crazy.

Michonne didn't stop massaging him either, milking him for everything he had as she swallowed his seed. He tasted sweet - sweeter than usual, at least - which made her giggle as she thought back to girls' night. Especially when a bit more of it unexpectedly squirted onto her chest and then dripped down to his thigh. "I'm making a mess," she commented, trying to wipe them both.

He smiled too as he sat up, still trying to recover from it all, and he gazed at her happily. He loved the mess. He loved that their sex was real and it was raw, and completely unrestrained. It just made it that much hotter. "C'mere," he requested. He watched her stand from the floor, still in her panties, the only piece of clothing left between the two of them, and she slowly climbed back into his lap. It didn't make sense how sexy she was, and it made even less sense that she still wanted him after everything, after all this time, but he knew exactly how lucky he was to have her. And when they came face to face, he made sure to express it in no uncertain terms, pulling her in for a soft, chaste kiss, tasting himself on her lips. He let go only because he wanted to stare into her eyes. "I love you," he said earnestly, his voice quiet but firm. "I love you more than anything in this world."

"I know," she frowned, taking the opportunity to kiss him right back. Those stupid blue eyes told her more than words ever could. "I love you back." Her fingers began to comb through the tangle of curls at the back of his head as she scanned his entire face. She could only hope what she was about to say didn't muddy the very real sentiment he was obviously trying to express. But they'd promised to be honest with one another, and the truth was... "But right now, I wanna fuck."

The two of them laughed heartily and genuinely in response to her bluntness, but Rick didn't waste any time obliging her request, flipping her onto their new mattress so that they could do just that. Aroused in every sense of the word, Michonne positioned herself on her hands and knees, looking back at him as she waited for him to get to business. The way he stared at her – or more particularly, her ass in the air – it was clear he was just as ready for the ride as she was.

He used his right hand to stroke himself back erect, while his left went to work snatching her panties off. It felt like unwrapping another Christmas gift when her perfect, luscious ass came into view, looking like a peach, her pussy lips the glistening pit. His mouth began to water as he continued to stare, pulling her panties down her legs and from her feet, and he couldn't wait to be inside her. Her palmed her ass, squeezing her juicy cheeks while his fingers brushed her slit, smiling at how wet she was.

"Come on," she pressed for the second time, unable to take the touchy-feely teasing. She knew the immediacy in her voice would turn him on even more, even if it did make her sound thirsty. But she'd never been too proud to beg in bed, especially knowing how much he enjoyed it. She grinned in satisfaction when she felt him climb onto the bed behind her, his cock pressing against her ass, letting her know he was hard and ready. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the delicious sensation of penetration. He didn't stop teasing her, though, repeatedly running the tip of his dick along her wet opening until she was moaning for it. "Rick…"

With a devilish smirk, he pushed into her roughly, her ass smacking against his thighs as he did, causing her to squeal. He wanted to shush her, but all that came out was another grunt as his body recognized where it was, balls deep inside this perfect pussy. "Fuck," he muttered, already pulling back out of her. It was too good, she was so tight, he couldn't even take it all.

And Michonne agreed, the same curse word tumbling from her lips. " _Fuck_." It was all she could think as he went back in, the ridges and curves of his dick pushing past her walls to drive her insane. She'd needed this. Badly. Her entire body relaxed as he began to thrust into her, quickly finding a rhythm that she could settle into. She began to rub at her engorged clit, while Rick gripped at her ass, mesmerized by his length disappearing inside her as he entered her. He also loved her back, watching her beautiful muscles gradually begin to glisten with the sheen of sweat as they fucked. The shape of her body was such a sight to behold, her tiny waist expanding into these perfect hips, and her even more perfect ass. He pushed her cheeks apart, satisfied to get even the tiniest bit deeper, neither of them able to get enough of each other.

Which was why Michonne nearly had a fit when Rick pulled out without warning, grinding her impending orgasm to a frustrating halt. She turned back to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to see what the interruption was about. "What the hell," she started to demand, but quickly got her answer the second his tongue pushed inside of her, sending her into an immediate tailspin. "Oh, shit," she loudly moaned at his unexpected charge. His mouth was warm and clearly hungry as he lapped at her creaming pussy, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut from the pleasure.

He smiled at her reaction as he began to eat her out, but his position at the edge of the bed wasn't allowing him the leverage he needed to get the job done. "Hold on," he said, warning her of the interlude this time.

"Rick."

"Just a second," he promised. His hand lingered on her backside and trailed all the way up her back as he moved past her, lying down in the middle of the bed. "Alright, hop on."

Michonne stared at him, knowing exactly what his position meant for her, but she was still utterly amused at the fact that her southern gentleman of a husband had absolutely zero qualms about her sitting on his face to give her head. He welcomed it, in fact, without her ever having asked. When she met Rick Grimes all those years ago, she never would've guessed that this sexually expressive and experimental being was waiting on the other side of that fence. And even more, she loved knowing that he was only like this with her. Or so he said. It'd made for such a fun five years together.

"God, I love you," she grinned, following his instruction to 'hop on' top of him. Carefully, she scooted herself up his long, lean body, using the headboard as a handrail, until she was straddling his face. "How's that?"

He was so eager to taste her, he didn't answer, but simply went to work, tonguing her plump pussy lips like they were her mouth. Gently sucking at her clit as she rocked against his face. He had missed this so much, the taste of her on his tongue. She was always so sweet, her cum was like the actual nectar from a peach. He loved the way she smelled, too, inhaling her scent like it was perfume. "God," he mumbled to himself. She was so warm, so soft, his tongue rolling around her delicious folds in long, languid strokes. He licked her from front to back to front again, lapping up everything he could, while the excess dribbled down his chin.

Michonne was trying not to moan too loudly, but goddamn if he wasn't making it hard. The tongue-fucking he was giving her was such delicious agony. It felt as though he was sucking her clit while licking her clean all at once. And the prickly feel of his beard was such a divine contrast to everything else going on beneath her. She was practically riding his face, lightly knocking the headboard against the wall in the process. She was dying. "Rick," she was whimpering. "Oh, god."

His mouth continued its assault, his wide tongue exploring every inch of her exquisite depths. He kept a firm hold of her ass while he worked, squeezing it when she began to close her thighs on his face. He could barely breathe, but he was having far too much fun getting her off to care. Sucking at her delectable pussy while she hummed his name. He was enjoying every second, and he had a throbbing dick to show for it. A wave of satisfaction washed over him when she came, impulsively loud in her pleasure as her slick fluids coated his tongue. He immediately noticed the difference in her taste, her tangy sweetness more intense than he remembered, but it didn't stop him from devouring it all. The smacking of his lips on hers was the only sound in the room as she went quiet in her recovery.

"Shit," Michonne exhaled, falling to the bed beside him in a heap of sated glory. She was in a haze, the tingling between her thighs not allowing her to come back down. She could barely move, but she wanted to, she wanted more of him, wanted to finish him off.

"Hey," Rick called out to her, both of them still breathing haphazardly. "You okay?" He'd begun to softly knead his dick, still rock hard, and especially so after his pussy-eating session. It took everything he had not to cum again in the middle of it.

She rested her hand over her forehead and sighed. "I'm so good," she grinned back.

Her smile was so fucking gorgeous, it didn't make sense. Everything about her was, really. He smiled, too, as he briefly turned his head toward the window, trying to muster up the energy to move again. He wasn't sure how much he had left in his arsenal, but he was going to use it all to get her off one more time that night. In one swift move, he maneuvered the two of them into missionary position, glad that he would be able to see her face now. As much as he loved watching her glorious ass when he fucked her from behind, there was nothing quite like being able to look at her face as he pleased her. It was his favorite way to end things.

Michonne gazed up at him in a heady mixture of wanton lust and undeniable love, so unbelievably relieved that this day, this night had come. She found a way out of her heartbreak and had forgiven her husband; and not only were things good, but the sex was just as fantastic as ever. She'd come home and found exactly what she was looking for.

She used her index finger to tilt his chin toward her, a gesture that she wanted him to kiss her. And he did, a long and sensual one, their tongues melting together, tasting themselves in each other's mouths.

Rick was the first to break out of their kiss, his lips roaming downward toward her neck. He covered her in tiny smooches, trailing down her collarbone as she combed her fingers through his hair. He then started to lick at her skin, saltier than before, from the sweat they'd worked up. He listened to her light moans as he worked his way down her chest, his strong hands holding onto her flat stomach as he sucked at her tits. Flicking her perpetually rigid nipple in his mouth, then trading it for the other. His kisses continued down her body, stopping at her navel, tonguing it too, just because he wanted to taste every centimeter of her.

But then Michonne wrapped her legs around his waist, coercing him between her thighs where she wanted him. She was unable to take any more foreplay, as his erection kept grazing her, teasing her, and she just wanted to feel him inside her again.

"I wasn't done," he smirked as he came back to face her. He was already pulling her hips into place, squeezing at her backside as he did.

With a raised eyebrow, she brushed his falling curls from his forehead and gave him an assuring nod. "You're done, baby."

Licking his lips, Rick shook his head, knowing this was no time to argue his side. She clearly wanted his dick, and he was happy to give it to her. "All right," he conceded, though it sounded like more of a warning as he lifted her right leg over his left shoulder. He took his time inserting himself into her once again, both of them reveling in the delightfully tight fit. Their position allowed him to fill her completely, his perfect length and girth making her immediately moan.

"God," she was already quivering, his shaft brushing against her clit. He used his arms to hold himself up, and began to grind into her in delicious waves, driving her out of her mind. Even without his impressive length, his stroke would've been more than enough for her. He fucked with the confidence of someone who knew what he was doing. And he did. She held onto his arms for her own support as he leaned in to kiss her, their bodies closer than ever as he pumped into her over and over. She could feel every inch of him, sliding in and out of her, their breathing becoming choppier with every other second.

"Fuck," Rick murmured into her mouth, powerless to contain his ecstasy. She felt so fucking good, her hot wet pussy surrounding his cock, clenching it inside her walls with every thrust. Her round, full tits, shining with sweat, jiggling in time to his thrusts. He kissed her again and again, simply unable to get enough of her. His arms were getting tired, but he would try to go for as long as she wanted. He didn't want this night to end.

"I'm almost there," she whispered in a frenzy. Her mind and her heart were racing as her body built up to a slow climax. The sound of their fucking - the wet slapping and smashing of their bodies, and Rick's little grunts in her ear - it intensified everything by ten. His kisses, claiming her lips, then devouring her neck, never losing his rhythm as he worked, it had her moaning louder than ever. "Oh, fuck," she whimpered, feeling the tingly explosion of her third orgasm that night. It started somewhere in her stomach and went all the way down to her toes. "Rick," she purred through it. "God. Shit."

Relieved that she had not only finished, but finished strong, complete with the splendid feeling of her cum on his dick, he felt safe enough to let himself go, too. "Where do you want it," he breathed, still slowly thrusting into her. He was fairly sure she wouldn't care where, but they hadn't established anything beforehand, so he thought it best to ask.

"Just go," she encouraged him, shaking her head. If he didn't hurry, she would be rounding the corner to orgasm number four, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take in one session.

And with that, he let go, both of them grunting quietly at the warm sensation of him filling her up. He was slow to pull out of her, knowing he would leave a trail of semen in his wake. "Goddamn," he sighed. He wiped at both his lips and hers before rolling to the other side of her, exhausted. Exalted.

Michonne smiled to herself, knowing that they'd just made an absolute mess of their brand new bedspread, and she couldn't have cared less. Every single second had been worth it. She locked her leg with his, not wanting him to move for any reason – especially not to clean up. She just wanted to lie there with him. "God _damn_ ," she repeated with a small chuckle. There were no other words for it.

With another deep exhale, Rick used what little strength he had left to move in closer to his wife, and he rested his head on her chest. He smiled when he felt her heart beating against his ear, and he tenderly began to run his fingers along her stomach. "Merry Christmas, baby."

She grinned again, her own fingers twirling in his wet curls as she closed her eyes, quietly thankful for the gift that was her husband. "Merry Christmas, love."

* * *

_Go back to your sleep in your favorite spot just next to me_

Within the half hour, the happy couple was lost in slumbered bliss, splayed across their bed, their limbs intertwined. Michonne was on her back, Rick's arm draped over her chest, his hand affectionately cupping her breast. He laid on his stomach, her hand having found its way to his backside, all of it a beautiful inversion of their first night together.

But it was something other than Jesus that'd suddenly stirred Michonne awake, her eyes popping open at the realization that she had yet to give Rick their good news. In all her erratic emotions, and all her horniness, she had completely forgotten to tell him. Knowing she couldn't wait any longer, she turned her head to him, forcing herself not to laugh at the way his face was smushed against his pillow; his pink lips slightly parted as he quietly snored. He looked so innocent compared to the man that had just fucked her sideways. But it was clear they had done a number on each other, because he was knocked out.

"Rick," she hissed. She wanted to wake him, but not startle him. Her thumb rubbed gently at the skin of his lower hip, hoping the tickle would stir him. "Rick..."

"Hmm," he mumbled, obviously barely lucid. Her whispers only seemed to lull him further into his dreams.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she was sure to assure him. Her eyes settled on him for a moment, knowing that the last time she gave him this news, their entire world flipped upside down. She could only pray that this time, a happy ending was waiting for them. "I'm pregnant, Rick."

Much to her surprise, he didn't open his eyes upon hearing the news. In fact, she almost wondered if he'd fallen back asleep until and he began to lightly caress her nipple beneath his thumb. And a small smile washed over his face, and he replied in a raspy whisper, "I know."

_Forward_


	17. How I Missed You, My Love

_We found the truth beneath your lies_  
_And true love never has to hide_  
_I'll trade your broken wings for mine  
_ _I've seen your scars and kissed your crimes_

Michonne narrowed her sleepy eyes at her husband, both bemused and amused by his frankness. "What do you mean you 'know'?" she grinned, too eager to be tired any longer. She playfully poked his ass to demand his attention.

Yawning, Rick slowly opened his eyes and repositioned to his side, his hand descending to his wife's stomach as he gazed at her groggily in the darkness. "Because I know you," he answered simply, still smirking at her.

"That's not an answer." She rested her hand over his, both of them caressing her tiny tummy as she waited for him to speak further.

"Well," he sighed before clearing his throat, "I thought it was strange when you drank water all night, but I thought maybe you just… weren't in the mood in the mood to drink. And I was happy to see that you didn't need a drink to have a good time," he said, his forefinger absentmindedly tracing circles in her skin. "I knew you were doing better when I saw that."

She smiled because it was true. Pregnancy obviously forced her out of her weak habit altogether, but in her month away, she'd come to a place where she no longer needed alcohol to get through the night. "Fair enough…"

"That, and the decaf coffee for breakfast, were my first inkling," he appended. "But more than that, it was the changes in your body. I know what your breasts feel like in my hands." He trailed his fingers along the underside of her plump breasts to accentuate his point. "It's been a while, but I wouldn't forget that," he grinned. "I know what you taste like..." His eyes locked with hers as he said it, reminded of the flavor of her sweet milk on his tongue. "Of course I knew you were pregnant."

Michonne closed her eyes, quietly chuckling at the fact that she'd been unnecessarily working up to some big _moment_ , wanting to surprise him, and she didn't even need to. But he'd always been observant; good at figuring things out. He was right – of course he would know. "Is the taste that different?" she wondered, a touch of demureness in her voice.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Not bad different, but... different."

She nodded, recalling him mentioning the same with their first pregnancy. But she wasn't into oral sex at all during that time, not wanting to give or receive, so they never explored it much further. "You'll tell me if you start to dislike it?"

"I will," he promised. A mischievous smile stayed on his lips as he whispered, "But I'm pretty sure you're always gonna be my favorite thing to eat."

"Rick..." She turned away from him as she giggled in response, and could only shake her head as she looked back to him. If her face could turn red, it would've.

He stared at her lovingly, mesmerized by the way her smile lit up the dark room. She was so goddamn beautiful, he thought. Her dark skin glowing with the life inside her. He couldn't believe they were getting another chance at all of it again. "How long have you known?" he eventually asked. He fell asleep wondering if she'd been holding onto this throughout their entire separation. Not questioning her for it, but simply wondering, knowing she would've had her reasons for not telling him sooner.

"Since Friday," she shook her head, seemingly reading his mind. "I started suspecting it about a week ago, but Harlan had me do three different blood tests to confirm."

Rick nodded. He wished he had been there with her, but again, understood why she didn't feel comfortable calling him. He continued to rub her stomach as he gazed at the side of her face. "Do we know how far along yet?"

"Right around seven weeks," she whispered. "It was too early to even hear a heartbeat last week."

He was relieved to know they hadn't missed a lot then, but what he knew about pregnancy told him that their baby had been conceived at probably the lowest point in their relationship. When he was lying to her, and she knew it, and they both essentially tried to pretend the nightmare was happening to someone else. "If I ask you somethin', you promise you'll tell me the truth?"

Michonne turned on her side to face him too, her eyes locking on his, glimmering in the nearly black room, illuminated only by the moon. "I promise."

_So many people that I know they just trying to touch you  
_ _Kiss up and rub up and feel up, kiss up and rub up and feel up on you_

"Do you wanna have this baby?"

"I do." She said it emphatically and earnestly, having thought about it every day for a week now. "I decided for myself, before I even knew for sure if this baby was a baby; before I could even think about us, I wanted this."

He cupped her face then, his thumb affectionately caressing her jaw. "Why?"

"I want someone that's both of us," she grinned, echoing his words from their first real discussion about having a baby. It was the reason she wanted to do this the first time, but it was especially so now. "I always did."

"But that's not why you came home, is it?"

"Would it bother you if it was?"

His gaze fell, already feeling a twinge of disappointment at an answer he hadn't even been given yet. "I would want you to come home because you wanted to come home," he told her sincerely. "But... it's-"

"It's not why I came home," she interrupted to assure him. She smiled to comfort him, seeing the sadness beginning to show on his face, and she didn't want her teasing to ruin their good moment. "It's almost why I didn't come home, honestly."

"Why's that?"

"For the reason you said, I guess. I didn't wanna force myself back here, trapping myself in a marriage I wasn't sure I wanted to be in, for a baby neither of us were prepared for. If I came back, I wanted it to be for the right reasons."

_Gave you some time to prove that I can trust you again_  
_I'm gonna kiss up and rub up and feel up  
_ _Kiss up and rub up and feel up on you all night long_

Rick nodded in both agreement and relief. His gaze fell to her full breasts, quickly followed by his hand, gently fondling her left one. How he loved lying there naked with her. In every sense of the word. "So you're happy about it?"

"I'm still nervous." She lifted her own hand to his face, her thumb touching his bottom lip. "I keep thinking, 'Well if we lose this one, maybe it's just not meant to be.' But... when I think about my life with Andre; I think about raising Judith... once I stopped avoiding her at all costs," she chuckled quietly. "No matter what else was going on, my children have brought me joy. Babies, new life. The possibility of it all... I'm definitely happy."

"You look it," he nodded again, grinning himself. He liked hearing her speak of Andre and Judith in the same breath. Her children.

"Are you happy about it?" she questioned him, looking him square in the eye again, her voice almost as quiet as the room. "I mean, how do you feel... after everything?"

"Well you know I always wanted this with you..."

"I know."

"I think I had kind of given up on it, though," he confessed with a small sigh. A sigh of relief that he hadn't been right. "I mean, it's not like we've been careful these last few months. So when it wasn't happening, I thought it wasn't going to. And I was mostly okay with that."

She smiled ruefully at his choice of 'mostly' as a word. It meant that he wasn't okay with it, and it still bothered her that she was too blinded by her own shit to actually see that. "I really wish you'd called me that day you were in Richmond."

He closed his eyes and smiled at the fact that she remembered that minor detail, from the voicemail he left for her while she was at Hilltop. He imagined she'd probably listened to it several times by then. "I do, too," he whispered. "I wish I'd done a lot of things differently."

Michonne used that opportunity to turn to her opposite side, her back to Rick as she moved in close to him, lifting his arm to give her the space to nestle into his embrace. They fit together like puzzle pieces, making her sigh happily as he squeezed her tight. His lips found the back of her shoulder, enveloping it with soft kisses. "God, I've missed those."

"I've missed all of this," he admitted, his voice muffled by his lips pressed to her skin. "This house... it was so cold without you."

"You did well without me," she offered.

"I don't know about _well_ , but I made out all right."

"No, you did. You kept our home together. Mostly yourself. Judith always came back to me happy and clean," she laughed. "I know how you can be when you're sad, so... I'm just glad you didn't let that consume you this time."

"Well you told me I had work to do." He instinctively rubbed at her stomach again, and for the second time that night, smiled to himself as he did, thinking of the little life growing inside it. "How was it living at Hilltop for that long?"

"I felt like I was in a foreign place," she murmured, rubbing her tired eyes. "Maggie is just... I love her so much. She did everything to make it normal for me. And Judith was mostly happy on a day-to-day basis, but I know she missed you. _I_ missed you. It felt like a bad vacation."

He smirked at her description, gracing the top of her shoulder with another light kiss. "Everyone here kept asking if everything was all right. I didn't even know what to say."

"If this has taught me anything, it's that people are incapable of minding their business," she rolled her eyes. "If they don't ask, they stare at you like some museum exhibit."

"You ever tell Maggie what was goin' on?"

"I thought about it," she allowed with another exhale. "I mean, she figured out enough of it on her own. But I was never interested in confirming it one way or another."

"Why not?" he pressed, still hating that she'd essentially gone through all of this on her own.

_My love was stronger than your pride  
_ _Beyond your darkness, I'm your light_

"It's no one else's business," she shook her head. "I don't know if you have any friends that do this, but I always hated when mine would complain about their significant other when they're arguing. Because they always inevitably get back together, and now I'm stuck hating your boyfriend over something you're not even mad about anymore. I didn't wanna do that to you. Or Maggie. Or me, for that matter."

Rick laughed, causing his entire body to vibrate against hers. "That's ridiculous, you know."

"I do know," she grinned. Her fingers began to caress his, still spanning her flat stomach. "But I still didn't wanna do it. I prefer to internally assess my shit anyway."

"You don't say," he chuckled again.

Amused, Michonne softly kicked her foot against his. "You shut up," she giggled at his sarcasm. It was so nice to feel comfortable enough to joke with one another again. "One thing I didn't keep to myself, though, was my disdain for your friend..."

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, wondering if she was really talking about the person he thought she was. "My friend?"

Michonne had been avoiding saying the woman's name whenever she could, not wanting to give her the respect or acknowledgment. But with her anger gone, she was willing to surrender her pettiness. "Magna."

"You talked to Maggie about her?" he continued to frown.

"No, I talked to Magna," she revealed, almost wishing she could see his face as she said it. "More like I talked at her, really," she simpered. "I don't even know why I said anything. I was just so... I dunno." She let out a light sigh, turning her head in his direction, knowing she still wouldn't be able to see him. "I think I needed somewhere to put my anger. And I was having a nice morning with my daughter, and she stopped me for something inane, and I just went on this... rant." After a few seconds of contemplation, she reconsidered. "It wasn't a rant. I was calm. But I said a lot of words, most of which, I don't remember." She shook her head recalling the entire incident. "I feel bad."

"Don't feel bad," he quickly assured her. "She makes it a habit of missing the point, so there's a good chance she didn't even hear you."

"Oh, she heard me," she chuckled, covering her eyes with her hand, feeling a tinge of embarrassment over it. "I told her you were a good fuck."

Rick immediately lifted his head to get a look at her face, attempting to gauge whether she was serious. "Are you serious?"

"I have this thing about people trying to tell _me_ about you. Like I don't know you better than anyone," she scoffed. "I just go... off."

"Jesus, you're just as crazy as I am," he continued to laugh as he fell back into his pillow. "No wonder you like me."

"I'm honestly surprised she didn't run over here to tell you about it."

"Well we haven't exactly been on speaking terms since... what happened," he answered carefully. "Last time we did talk was Thanksgiving. Had to explain to her why we couldn't be friends anymore."

"No wonder she looked like an abandoned puppy every time I saw her," Michonne remarked, both sincerely and cynically.

"Could you see it?" he posited, his question coming out in a hoarse whisper. "You knew she was in love with me?"

Michonne narrowed her eyes at the mere notion, her head turning back to Rick once again. "Is that what she told you?"

"That's what Carl told me." He interlaced his fingers with hers as he inhaled the scent of her hair. "I don't know what it was. Whatever it was, I didn't notice it."

"More like infatuation," she corrected him. "I saw that. If you didn't, it's because you didn't want to."

He smiled at the way she didn't shy away from telling him the truth, her words harsh, while her voice was soft and clear. "I thought it was just a silly crush kinda thing. But even that, I should've shut down from the start."

"I could've," she shrugged, agreeing with him. "But I figured I had nothing to worry about."

"You don't," he promised, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "Never again."

Blindly, she reached back to touch his face, affectionately rubbing his bearded cheek. After all was said and done, she probably had more faith in that than ever now. "I know," she answered confidently, her arm slowly snaking its way back down to her stomach, resting over his. "We don't have to talk about it anymore."

"Or we can, if you want to."

_You get deep, you touch my mind  
_ _Baptize your tears and dry your eyes_

She shook her head, her eyes closing as his lips found their way to her skin again. "I'm hungry," she declared instead, a small yawn accompanying her words.

"That's because you barely ate tonight," he knew. "Plus we just had a workout."

Michonne smirked in response, staring at the bedroom door as she considered how far the kitchen was from their comfortable spot in bed. "Instead of morning sickness, I get nauseated in the evenings," she quietly informed him. "My dinner usually ends up in the toilet."

"That's really sexy," he joked, already starting to pull out of their embrace. "What do you want?"

"I want you not to move," she shot back. She was quite enjoying him spooning her, the feeling of his semi-erect dick pressed against her cheeks. She turned onto her back, watching him descend from their bed. "Come back," she whined.

"You said you were hungry," he chuckled.

"Let's text Carl and tell him to bring us something."

He laughed again as he made his way to her side of the bed, finding his pajamas on the floor along with half their bedspread. "It's almost three in the morning," he reminded her as he pulled on his pants. "What do you want?"

She shrugged, gazing up at him with a silly smile on her face. "What do you want?"

"I dunno. I'm not all that hungry."

"Ugh," she scoffed at his lack of ingenuity. "An apple or pear is fine," she quickly decided. "Just hurry up."

Rick grinned at her, amused by her apparent enthusiasm to be close to him. It felt like the beginning of their relationship all over again. There was a giddiness between them that couldn't quite be contained. "I'll be right back," he promised, leaning over her to leave a quick kiss on her soft lips. "Don't move."

Michonne licked her lips as she watched him disappear into the hallway, and then turned her head toward their window, noticing the snow still falling in the distance. Ignoring Rick's very specific instruction, she sat up and moved to the middle of the bed to get a better look. Kneeling as she watched the moving scenery. She placed her hand on her stomach again, both trying to and not to imagine what she would look like when it was the size of a watermelon in a few months. And she smiled. She laughed. Because what a strange twist of fate, having her end up where her heartbreak began. And the fact that she couldn't have been happier about it. Maybe the universe was trying to teach her some cruel lesson, but she was going to enjoy every bit of this good life while she had it.

_So many people I know that they just trying to touch you_  
_Kiss up and rub up and feel up, kiss up and rub up and feel up on you  
_ _Gave you some time to prove that I can trust you again_

Before long, Rick returned to the room with hands full of food, though he nearly dropped them at the sight of his naked wife kneeled in the center of their bed. Her dark silky skin, resplendent in the moonlight, her gorgeous long hair cascading down her back, stopping just above the perfect curves of her hips and backside. He wished he were a painter in that moment, possessing the ability to capture her on canvas. By god, she was gorgeous.

"What'd you bring me?" she asked, noticing his reflection in the window. She loved the way he stared at her as if in a daze sometimes.

"I brought you apples," he answered, taking steps toward her side of the bed to set the plate on her nightstand. "And sweet potatoes. And gingerbread cookies, in case you get nauseous again." He set down a napkin, and removed the cookies from the first plate. And as she turned to face him, he handed over what he knew she would really want. "And chocolate cake."

She grinned at the treat as she took the large dish from him. So large, she could barely hold it with one hand. "Did you really bring me half a cake?"

"Well you told me to hurry up," he reminded her, removing his pants once more. "I didn't wanna stand there tryin' to figure out how big a piece to cut."

"Smart," she granted, already using her fingers to break off a small portion, consuming it as she watched Rick climb back into bed. "Though I should save some for Judith…"

"Probably." He maneuvered around her to lie back down, knowing that she had every intention of climbing on top of him once he did. He kept his eyes on her as she pulled another piece from the plate and fed it to him. And as she moved to straddle his waist, he licked the chocolate from her fingers while she watched in amusement, his lips seductively sucking on her slender digits.

"You're a mess," she grinned, wiping the icing from the top of his lip.

"You should try lemons," he offered as she downed another chunk of the delicacy. She settled on top of him, and he stared her up and down, from the look of contentment on her face to her jiggling tits with every move she made. He felt himself growing hard again under her weight, and he could only hope she was up for another go-round.

_I'm gonna kiss up and rub up and feel up_

Michonne only frowned down at him, baffled. "What?"

"For the nausea," he said, not missing a beat of their conversation despite his wandering thoughts. He accepted another bite of cake and rested his hands on her hips. "I remember reading it with the last one. Lemons are good for morning sickness."

"I'm not eating lemons for the next... however many months," she shook her head.

"I'll eat 'em with you."

"You're sweet," she grinned. She began to grind against him when she felt his erection, smiling wider then as she fed him more cake. The way he lapped the food from her hand was so sexy, she thought. He had a sensuality, a softness, that was rare in most alpha males. She was reminded of this every time they kissed. And so, she set down the cake and leaned into him to steal a quick one, licking the chocolate crumbs from his lips before his tongue snuck into her mouth. It wasn't long before she felt his one of his hands move down her hip until he was palming her ass, and they both smiled at the contact until it evolved into quiet giggling, causing them to break apart.

_Kiss up and rub up and feel up on you all night long_

He continued to run his hand along her hot skin as he grinned up at her. "What are you laughing at?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She brushed her hair behind her ear as she went in for another peck. "You're a good kisser."

"So are you," he breathed, fixating on her lips. Her top lip, in particular, was a delight of its own. All while his hard cock was agonizingly trapped beneath the lips between her thighs. His mouth hung open as her slowly rolling hips did their best to tantalize him, the skin on skin contact driving him crazy. "You wanna go again?"

With a knowing smirk on her face, Michonne picked up their cake dish, effortlessly stretching her body across the bed to set it on her nightstand beside her apples and sweet potatoes. And then she gazed down at Rick, a combination of love and mischief in her eyes as she rested her hands on his stomach. "I wanna go all night." She wasn't at all shy about her hand sneaking lower, following his happy trail down to his dick, her smile widening as she lifted herself just enough to get him inside her. Both of them moaned quietly as she sank down onto his length, and it was like the first time again. God, how she loved this feeling. Usually, their plans to fuck all night would end up with them asleep on top of each other by 4:00am, but it had been so long, Michonne truly had every intention of riding her man until the sun came up. They were making up for lost time.

_Good love all night long_  
_Sweet love all night long, sweet love all night long_  
_All I wanna, be no other_  
_We together, I remember  
_ _Sweet love all night long_

* * *

Hours later, after a mission well accomplished, Michonne and Rick had finally fallen asleep along with the breaking of the day. They typically didn't sleep very long past the sun, but they'd exhausted themselves, to say the least. The only thing to stir even one of them was the pitter-patter of little feet running through the house. Rick opened his eyes to the top of Michonne's head, her face pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his torso. He'd been her pillow since they fallen asleep, and he hadn't even noticed. He yawned, trying to find his bearings and search for the time, knowing he probably didn't have much before Judith was at their door. 9:04. "Shit," mumbled, dreading the idea of having to move.

As if their daughter could read his thoughts, there was a soft knock at the door before the clock could even change minutes. "Mommy?" she called out quietly, her muffled voice doing nothing to wake her fatigued mother.

With another yawn and a sleepy sniffle to follow, Rick carefully climbed out of bed, doing his best not to disrupt Michonne in the process. He covered her up as he rounded the bed to find his pants again, and then made his way to the door. Judith met him with a book in her hand, her curls from the night before in an adorable disheveled mess, and those wide hazel eyes staring up at him. "Good morning," he greeted her, his voice coming out groggy and gruff. He opened the door just wide enough for him to stand in it, and kneeled for his daughter so that they were face to face.

"Hi, Daddy," she grinned, amused by his equally unruly curls. "Is Mommy here?"

"She is," he confirmed, purposely keeping his voice low to substantiate the rest of his sentence, "but she's still asleep."

Judith frowned at that information, as she was very clear that it was completely unlike her mother to wake up so late. "Oh." She tried to peek past her father to see what was really going on, only getting a glimpse of her mom's back.

"Can I help you with somethin'?" Rick chuckled, noting her nosiness.

"Umm. I'm hungry."

He was so tired, he wanted nothing more than to give her an apple and send her back to her room. But he was ready to relent, because that face could get him to do just about anything, when he was saved by the figurative bell – the sound of laughter coming from downstairs. Carl was still home, he suddenly realized. "Tell you what," he said to Judith, attempting to recapture her attention from their bedroom. "You go downstairs and tell your brother that I said to make you whatever you want."

"Is Mommy sick?" she wondered, ignoring his instruction.

"She's fine, sweetheart," he promised. "She's just tired."

"Oh." Judith was reluctant to accept that answer, given the food she saw sitting at her mother's bedside. "Are you _sure_ she's not sick?"

He had to chuckle at the fact that his daughter clearly didn't trust him to tell her the truth, even going so far as to stand on her tippy toes to see over him. "Judith, she went to bed late. That's all it is."

"Okay," she relented, finding her father's face again. "Can I sit in there with you until she wakes up?"

"No," he declined, smiling at her insistence. "I'm going back to sleep, too."

" _Daddy_ ," she sighed dramatically, exasperated by her sleepy parents. "Why are you so tired?"

"Go find your brother," he instructed her again, standing from his position on the floor. "We'll be down later."

Disappointed, Judith turned for the steps, headed downstairs to do as told. It was an easy task, though, as she immediately found Carl and Enid at the dining table, eating and laughing, which she was happy to interrupt. "Good morning," she greeted them casually, setting her book on the table. She didn't wait for a response before starting to pull out her chair.

"Hey, Jude," Carl was the first to answer, though he had to wonder why a parent wasn't behind her. She wasn't one to come downstairs on her own in the mornings.

Enid smiled, watching her climb into the seat across from her, also curious as to what exactly was going on. "What's up," she submitted, welcoming her into their conversation.

"Nothing," Judith shrugged. After a quick survey of the table, she immediately sat up on her knees so that she could reach the plate of strawberries her brother and future sister were picking from. "Daddy told me to tell you I'm hungry," she directed to Carl. "And you have to make me anything I want."

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as he watched Judith inhale a piece of fruit. "He did not say that."

"Uh huh," she insisted. "He wants to go back to sleep."

"Well where's Mom?"

"She's sleeping, too." She leaned in closer to both of them so that she could whisper, "I think she's sick."

"Why do you think that?" Enid asked.

"Mommy never sleeps late," she said knowingly. Proudly. "And they had food in their room. We're not allowed to eat in our rooms, only if we're sick."

Enid chuckled at Judith's reasoning, but was already getting up from the table to start on some breakfast for her. "I think that rule is just for you, kiddo."

"No it's not!"

"All right," she was quick to concede, not wanting to argue with a six-year-old. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Chocolate chip pancakes," Judith answered, jumping down from her chair to follow Enid into the kitchen.

Carl stayed behind, his mind wandering a bit as he picked up on the fact that his parents had apparently slept in the same room the night before. Or rather, given the fact that they were still snoozing at 9:00 am - because Judith was right in knowing that was unlike both of them - he could guess they didn't get much sleeping done. And while knowing such a thing would've ordinarily disgusted him, it made him smile on that particular morning. Because he knew that his parents were okay again. He knew they were _good_ again. Weeks of worrying about them had turned into a night full of watching them interact throughout the party the night before. They looked like friends, the way they would occasionally laugh together, and that was nice to see. But what a weight off of his shoulders to _know_ that they were going to be just fine.

"Hey, Judith," he called into the kitchen, already making plans for the three of them in his mind.

"What?" she yelled back, not bothering to come see what he wanted.

Carl rolled his eyes, knowing she would never answer their parents that way. But he was in too good a mood to harp on it, and headed across the house to join the two of them in the kitchen, where Judith was on the counter, watching Enid. "You wanna learn to ride your bike today?" he asked nonchalantly, knowing that in all likelihood, she would.

"Can I?" she gasped, surprised that he seemed to be the one offering to do it. "Do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Of course I do," he laughed, looking to Enid to see if she was up for it.

"Really?" Enid responded to his unasked question. The streets were full of snow, and the sun seemed to be hiding behind clouds for the time being. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, offering Judith a high five when he noticed her excitement. Not only did it give their parents some much-needed privacy, but it was something special he could do with his kid sister on this rare occasion that he was at home for a while. "Let's have fun today."

* * *

Back upstairs, Rick and Michonne were having their own fun, indeed enjoying the privacy an empty house afforded them, still wrapped up in one another in every way possible. They were a beautiful mess of interlocked limbs, and other body parts pressed together. If it weren't for the daylight flooding the room, it would've been impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. It was noon, and they still hadn't moved from their bed. And with the kids out of the house for the day, they had no reason to. The only thing to worry about in that moment was each other.

"Are you as sore as I am?" Rick wondered out loud. His voice was still thick with sleep as his fingers wandered across the small of Michonne's back in little circles. "I feel so old."

"You are old," she joked. Most of her body had been sore for weeks now, so it was hard to tell where her list of grievances should've started. One thing she knew for sure was that her nether regions had gotten a workout, if nothing else. "My vagina hurts," she admitted with a tired giggle.

Rick let out a snort in response, loving that she was willing to be that honest with him. When she said she was going to communicate better, she clearly meant it. "So no more all-nighters, I take it."

"I don't wanna go that far," she replied, her fingers reaching out to touch him, settling on combing through his hair. "I don't know what it is. ...I mean, it's being pregnant, I'm guessing. But my sex drive is just... out of control."

"Which is basically the opposite of the last one," he noted, opening his eyes to see her face, her cheek smashed against her pillow in the same way his was.

"I know. Can't say that's a bad thing."

"Right..."

The two of them went quiet again for a long moment, listening to the sounds of each other's soft breaths. The winds of winter blowing in the distance, a complement to what was turning into a rather dreary, gray day. Undoubtedly, more snow would be coming, which would make Michonne happy. She imagined that she and Rick would leave their bed at some point close to evening, and they could go downstairs and have movie night with the kids, all five of them curled up on the couch somehow. That sounded like a perfect day to her.

Rick noticed her smiling as she thought about it. It made him smile back at her. "Can I ask you somethin'," he wondered out loud, hoping he wasn't interrupting some happy memory.

"No, I am not ready to try anal again," she mumbled back.

He tried to stifle his laughter in response, but failed, as his face turned bright red and his smile grew a mile wide. "I was tryin' to be serious here, Michonne."

She even giggled at herself, playfully hitting him in the shoulder as she recognized how silly she was being. "I'm sorry," she said, sobering up. She moved closer to him, resting on his back, her face pressed against his warm skin. "Ask your question."

"I'd rather ask about that now," he grinned, referring to her comment.

"Ask your original question," she insisted. As much as she was still amused with herself, she was much more interested in what he was going to say.

"It's not that serious," he prefaced. He began to turn over so that he could see her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest instead of his back, the sheets on their bed tangled between them. "I was just thinkin' about how you said you were in love with me since that night... before Terminus," he recalled from that terrible fight they had in their car. "...How you could pinpoint the exact moment."

"Mm-hm," she nodded, her eyes locked on him as she wondered where this was headed.

"Did you know it back then?"

"No," she answered confidently. She had considered this many times, wondering if she would've done things differently when they first arrived to Alexandria if she had been able to acknowledge such a thing. But… "I don't think I wanted to know it back then. I couldn't afford to know until I did."

"Until that night with the mints."

"Until that night with the mints," she agreed with another smile, recalling that unexpectedly fateful evening. "I think I probably felt things before then, but it was... it all clicked into place in those few seconds."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, having tried over the past several days to isolate that same moment for himself, where he felt it, even if he couldn't see it. It seemed like there were a million of them in the year it took them to get together. "I've been thinkin' about it a lot, and I dunno if I have that."

"You have it," she confirmed for him. "You can't remember it, but you have it."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Well I like to think that I'm pretty self-aware," she said, "so when I think about our time together, that night in particular, just know there was this recognizable shift in the way I looked at you, thought about you, interacted with you. If for no other reason than knowing that I was safe with you. It was a turning point."

He smiled, remembering it all so clearly. His interactions with Joe and his gang were a blur, but he could recall everything afterward very vividly. "That's how I felt the morning after," he recounted. "I mean, Carl was so... distant. But you weren't. You stayed even closer to me, maybe. And I think I halfway expected you to shy away from me the way Lori would've." He ran his fingers through her locs as he smirked at the fact that that probably was the moment he'd been looking for. He could remember feeling safe with her, too. "It's that simple, huh?"

"It was for me."

He sighed happily, his gaze flitting from the window back to his wife, with her eyes closed, resting peacefully against him. So stunning in her nakedness. The past day – a lot of the past five years, really – felt like a dream that he hoped he would never have to wake up from. He didn't deserve her, but he knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to. "I will never leave you again," he whispered, cupping her open cheek.

Michonne opened her eyes again, his unexpected declaration taking her by pleasant surprise. Her fingers brushed his chest as she nodded against him, believing him. "Good," she answered him just as quietly. "Don't." After everything they'd been through in the past half a year, somehow they'd ended up in the same exact place. They were happy, more than ever before, and they were expecting. They were getting another chance. Michonne wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she felt Rick gently stroking her hair.

And as he often did, he seemed to read her mind as he whispered, "We get to come back."

She laughed through her tears, remembering the first time he said it, the dire circumstances surrounding it. And back then, she was too broken to believe it, even if she admired him for wanting to himself. But five years later, she knew it as fact. She was living proof of it. With her hand rested over his heart, she nodded once more. "We do."

_All I wanna, be no other_  
_We together, I remember  
_ _Sweet love all night long_

 


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
** **I Was Served Lemons, But I Made Lemonade**

_My grandma said, 'Nothing real can be threatened_  
_True love brought salvation back into me  
_ _With every tear came redemption and my torturer became my remedy'_

* * *

_**6 months later.** _

Michonne watched in a quiet daze as the ocean waves crashed against the shore, the cloudy azure hue reminding her of her husband's eyes. She looked over to him, seemingly equally as lost in the scene in front of them, and she smiled to herself, wondering, for probably the hundredth time, whether their baby would have those eyes. She hoped so, knowing how much she adored looking into them. Would he have her nose? Her lips? An equal mixture of their dark and light complexions? It was so hard to envision what her and Rick's features would look like combined, but it had become Michonne's favorite pastime to try, as they counted down the days to their baby's birth day.

"I'm so ready to meet him," she commented out loud.

Rick smiled contemplatively as he glanced back at his wife, the two of them having expressed some version of the same sentiment for months now. With just six weeks to go until their August 10 due date, and way out of the danger zone they'd most feared, the sense of excitement about finally getting to meet their little one was strong. "Just a little over a month now," he noted, gazing at her gloriously round belly. The brightness of her orange Givenchy dress against her dark skin made her look like summer personified. She looked content, carefree, even young, with her high ponytail showing off her cherubic face. He especially enjoyed the way she swung her legs like a little kid as they sat along the side of the pier.

The pier in question was at the site of their new vacation home, out on Virginia Beach. Because when Dr. Carson said Michonne would have to take it easy, Rick immediately began looking into ways for her to do exactly that. Eventually, they decided on a home away from home, where she would have no choice but to do nothing. It was turning into a long, quiet summer, the two of them, along with Judith, mostly hanging out on the beach. Rick doing all the cooking, while Michonne read books and binge-watched 90s TV shows, Judith riding her bike up and down the shoreline. Rick would go back to Alexandria on a weekly basis, and Carl and Enid would come visit on weekends, but other than that, it had been just them and the ocean.

"You want me to get you anything?" Rick asked, noticing she was resting most of her weight on one arm, which had to be uncomfortable. He quietly hoped she didn't, though, not wanting to go back into their full house just yet.

"Don't move," she shook her head, feeling exactly the same way. In reality, they both should've been inside, enjoying their Fourth of July baby shower with their guests, but for the moment, Michonne just wanted to bask in her husband and the horizon. It was hot out, but the sun was low in the sky, and the ocean breeze made it comfortable enough. She rested her hand on his thigh, making a face at how swollen her fingers had gotten, to the point where she had to wear her wedding ring on a necklace.

"How much longer do you think we can stay out here?" he wondered out loud, taking hold of her extended hand.

"Well we were gone from our wedding reception for at least an hour," she smirked, fondly recalling that wonderful day. She was realizing they had a penchant for leaving parties just to be alone with one another. "That leaves us another thirty minutes?"

"About," he nodded, calculating minutes in his head. He got a twinkle in his eye as he squinted at his wife again. "Enough time to sneak upstairs for a quickie."

Michonne smiled brightly at the suggestion, as that idea wasn't particularly far from her own mind. "As tempting as that sounds, you know nothing is exactly quick with me these days."

"Well you were pretty quick last night…"

She playfully dug her thumb into his thigh as she giggled in response. "That's because I really wanted to go to sleep."

"Oh, so now you can control it?" he grinned at her, utterly amused by their conversation.

"Maybe you just did your job well."

"Well I'm not gonna argue with that." He squeezed her hand a bit tighter, the smile refusing to leave his lips as he gazed out to the gorgeous scenery in front of him. It still blew his mind that he got to look at all of this, every single day. Michonne, especially. "Hey," he turned back to her, his voice soft as he requested her attention.

She took that as an obvious cue for a kiss, mostly because she wanted one too, leaning in to touch her lips to his. She smiled into his mouth as he was quick to deepen their liplock, his tongue wasting no time sneaking out to meet hers, the way he often did. He sucked at her luscious lips, their noses smashing against each other's faces, his hand cupping her cheek as she rested her weight on him. Their side-by side positions forced him to crane his neck to get deeper still, and he did, not even noticing the discomfort. All that mattered to either of them was the heavenly feel of one another's lips, their tongues lashing passionately. Lovingly. Somehow, every kiss between them was like a new one. Time stopping, allowing them to indulge in one another for a few precious seconds. Or in this case, minutes, only breaking apart in brief spurts for gasps of air.

Eventually, though, Michonne pulled back, licking her tingling lips as she realized she was going to need that quickie if they didn't stop. Her eyes stayed on Rick, though, his peachy skin glistening under the sun, his curls flittering in the breeze, and she used her thumb to wipe his mouth. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

"You talkin' to yourself?" he grinned. He kissed her thumb before retaking her hand into his, the two of them turning back toward the beautiful view. They could hear the faint sound of laughter from inside their open house, and he was glad that they obviously weren't being missed. He would've stayed out there all night if they could've. It was all so simple, but he lived for these quiet moments with her.

"Guess what," Michonne announced, unknowingly shaking Rick from his happy daze. She was wincing, already anticipating how silly she would sound when the words came out of her mouth.

"What is it?" Rick frowned, feeling his stomach drop when he saw the look on her face. He was already examining her, looking for signs that perhaps her water had broken while they were sitting there. He knew it would be just like Michonne to announce such a thing as calmly as a human possibly could.

"I'm not in labor," she chuckled, recognizing the panic forming in his eyes. "It's about the name..."

"You can't change your mind again," he was shaking his head back, attempting to end that conversation before it could start. "We already painted it on a wall."

"We have a month to repaint it," she defended, affectionately leaning into him in a feeble attempt to sway him. "You didn't even like it that much when I first suggested it."

"Yeah, and then you went all 'Michonne Grimes, Attorney at Law' on me, and convinced me otherwise." Of course, Michonne offered up her most charming smile, complete with those eyes begging him to concede, and his conviction on the matter immediately crumbled. It was the same effect Judith had on him, and it was clear where she'd learned it. Between them and their soon-to-be baby boy, he was never going to be able to say no to anything. "What name are you thinkin' of now?" he sighed.

"I'm back to Ryan again," she revealed cautiously, clutching his arm as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "That one was yours."

"I remember," he nodded. "It was the only one of mine you liked."

"At least I'm consistent."

"Yeah, that's one word for it." He quietly laughed to himself as he felt her lips on the side of his bearded face. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna wait a while before I go back and redo his whole room on a whim."

"It's not a whim, Rick. I've been thinking about this for a week now."

"I'm sure you have."

She laughed again, discreetly poking him in his side for his dismissive tone. "I'm just trying to imagine calling my kid Liam for the rest of my life, and I can't."

Rick smirked again, fascinated by the fact that she was just repeating everything he'd already argued. "Is that not what I said in the first place?"

"I'm admitting you were right."

"All right," he relented, although he knew they would probably end up having this conversation at least one more time before the baby arrived. "Whatever you want, 'Chonne."

"Are you just saying that?" she pressed him.

"No, we can change it if you wanna change it."

She grinned happily at his compromise. He always did with her, even from the day they met. And while she was never one to exploit his soft spot for her, she couldn't pretend she didn't know he had it. That she didn't appreciate it. He truly loved her like no other. It was why a roll of mints turned into a marriage. "…So Ryan, it is," she announced before her own rampant musings could made her cry.

"It is," Rick agreed. "For now."

"I'm not gonna change my mind," she promised, still holding onto him. "Ryan Micah Grimes."

He smiled at the sound of their baby's full name in her voice. Since March, they'd been going back and forth, from biblical names, to Haitian and Irish ones, researching all of their meanings as they narrowed their list from forty to five. She had successfully talked him into Liam because it meant 'strong-willed warrior,' which he liked as a tribute to her. But Ryan worked just as well, and maybe even better, paired with the middle name.

"Our little king," she whispered, echoing his own thoughts on the subject.

He started to reply, curious as to whether her nerves had begun to surface about the impending delivery, but before either of them knew it, it was their other kids that were interrupting their quiet conversation. The two of them turned to find Judith barreling down the pier toward them, while Carl followed slowly behind with a drink in his hand and a grin on his face.

"Daddy! Mommy!" she shouted, excited to already have their attention before she even reached them.

"Hey, Cutie," Michonne called back to her, hesitantly separating from Rick so that Judith could fit in the space between them. "Come sit with us," she offered, the two of them helping her down while keeping her big tulle skirt in place.

"What are you guys doing out here?" she questioned, squinting up at her mother.

"Just talking," she smiled at her. She wiped the remnants of ketchup from her daughter's face as she added, "And no, we were not talking about you."

Judith reached out to touch her mother's stomach, as she often did, fascinated when she could feel her little brother moving inside it. "He's sleeping," she commented to her dad, in case he was interested.

"Thank you for the update," he chuckled. He turned to his approaching son, still unused to being able to see so much of his face since he'd cut his hair for his wedding. "You gonna sit?" he asked, already making room for him.

With a shrug, Carl accepted the invitation and sat in the open spot to his dad's left. "You guys are making a bad habit of inviting people to your house and then abandoning them."

"They're not 'people,'" Rick countered. "They're family."

"And that means you get to disappear whenever you want to?" he joked.

"It means we're always together," Michonne chimed in as she looked to Judith, teasingly poking her knee. "Even when we're not."

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, baby?" she was quick to answer her daughter. Something about her tone made her think the question would be a serious one.

"Can you keep the baby inside there until after my birthday?"

As Carl quietly chuckled in response, and Rick looked on a bit worried, Michonne only smiled, understanding how strange it must feel for her daughter to know that things in their home would be changing soon, and in a very different way than their temporary 'vacation' at Hilltop. And the baby being due just a few days before Judith's birthday likely didn't help. "I'll do my best, sweetie," she promised quite genuinely as she took her daughter's hand. "But he's supposed to come before then. And if he does, I can't stop him."

"Okay," she sighed, already showing signs of being sick of her little brother.

"Carl was very good to you when you were born," Rick reminded her, his mind automatically flashing back to that complicated time in all of their lives. "It's your turn to pay it forward."

She scrunched up her nose in reply, unsure how she was supposed to do such a thing. "But I don't have any money, Daddy."

"Then you should probably be nice," he teased, mimicking Michonne's action of nudging her knee.

"I'm always nice!" She grinned up at him brightly, showing off her missing front tooth as she took her father's arm, leaning into him in the same way her mother had been. "I'm gonna be the best big sister in the world."

"In the whole world?" Michonne questioned, even though she already knew it was true.

"The _whole_ world," Judith confidently nodded.

The three of them smiled at the current littlest member of their family, their light conversation dissolving into a comfortable silence as they took in that world that surrounded them. Even Judith, in all her adorable chattiness, seemed contemplative in the moment as she stared at the endless ocean ahead of them. Quietly wondering if her mom or Aunt Maggie would take her swimming with Hershel before the weekend was over. Carl was thinking of his own two-month-new marriage, knowing he and Enid were nowhere near ready for kids, but at the same time, couldn't wait to follow in his parents' footsteps. He laughed to himself, thinking of Judith as an aunt, which was equally as terrifying as the thought of him being a father. What a strange, perfect family he had.

Meanwhile, Rick was daydreaming about a time when it would be five of them sitting on that pier. Six, when he included Enid. How he'd been longing for this for a year and a half now, waiting for the day when he could meet the person he and Michonne created. To have some little person running around with his name and her heart, another person added to the list of loves of his life. To think that it was just a few short weeks away. He was bursting with happiness.

And Michonne was having similar thoughts, pondering all the transformation she'd endured throughout the years. How much her family had changed; how much her _definition_ of family had changed. It'd been over ten years since she had Andre, since he and Mike were that definition. And she lost everything when she lost them. Or so she thought. A decade later, she had extended the branches on her tree considerably – a husband, and what would soon be three kids, sisters and brothers she never would've met under different circumstances. Now, she had a house full of people that loved her just as much as she loved them. She had a husband who, eight months ago, hurt her so badly, she didn't think they could recover; her life felt as though it was crumbling before her eyes. But fast forward to the present, and against all odds, or perhaps with them ever in her favor, Rick proved her wrong. She proved herself wrong. She did recover. She'd learned, long after she thought the world was done teaching her lessons, about the power of love, trust, communication, forgiveness. She chose to move forward, because this, right here, was the life she wanted. These were the moments she didn't want to throw away. And somehow, for some reason, the universe was rewarding her, giving her exactly what she'd wished for.

"We should go back in," Michonne eventually announced, inhaling her thoughts. She wasn't particularly ready to leave this serene scene behind, but hunger had set in, and that was as good a reason as any to rejoin her own party. She patted Judith's thigh, coaxing her out of her seat first. "You can open all the baby's gifts for us."

"Okay!" she agreed, already shooting up from her cozy spot between her parents.

Rick was quick to follow, knowing Michonne would need his assistance, and Carl was right behind him; both of them offering their hands, watching intently as she rose from her seat, still graceful as ever bearing an extra 25 pounds. She joined hands with her husband, their fingers interlocking as they strolled casually down the long pier, their son looking on happily. Proudly. Understanding that everything was back where it was supposed to be.

* * *

An hour later, Judith was perched on the couch, in a sea of baby presents and wrapping paper, while Maggie sat beside her, recording every name and gift for the purpose of sending out Thank You cards later. Rick and Michonne sat in the loveseat beside them, guiding their daughter through the process as they shared a plate of grilled lobster and corn on the cob. Surrounded by all their closest friends and family, the vibe in the room was lighthearted - especially with the addition of Sasha and Abraham's four-month-old to the celebration. Kids were so much more prevalent than they used to be, which was such a welcome reminder of why they fought so hard to stay alive all those years ago.

"Mommy, can I do the next one now?" Judith asked, already ripping the attached card from the box she was asking to open. They'd paused for Aaron to take pictures, but she'd grown impatient with waiting.

"Go ahead, sweetie," Michonne nodded, setting their most recent gift on the coffee table. "Read the card first."

"Okay," she said, already knowing the drill by then. She carefully pulled from its envelope a square-shaped yellow and green card with a baby carriage pictured on the front. "' _There is wonder in the waiting_ ,'" she read out loud, her cadence slow but self-assured. She rescanned the words to make sure she'd read them correctly before opening the card to view the rest of the message. "' _Wishing you happiness as you wait and dream and hope for the tiny miracle who's on the way_.'" Judith then studied the cursive writing beneath the printed message, unable to make out most of it. "I don't know what this says, Mommy," she said, passing it over to her parents.

Michonne took the suddenly mysterious card, wondering what it was that Judith couldn't read. But as she noted the signature at the bottom, she was glad the sender happened to write in a script that their 7-year-old couldn't decipher.

_Heard through the grapevine that you two were expecting. I hope it's okay to send this, because I really am happy for you. Maybe it's not even my place to say it, but you guys deserve this. And in all sincerity, I wish the best for you and your family._

_Congratulations,  
_ _Magna_

Michonne only chuckled, gently passing the card to Rick, as she knew that the message was for him, even if she was addressing both of them. "It's from Magna," she revealed to Maggie, her smile not faltering even though only a few people in the room would even give pause to the information. But Michonne actually appreciated the gesture, even if it was unnecessary, and she would be sure to send her a thank you. "Go ahead and open it," she told her daughter.

While Judith was happy to tear through another wrapped box for her baby brother, Rick picked up his glass full of iced tea and moved toward the center of the room. He had given speeches to most of the people in this group more times than he could count, his words propelling them through actual battlefields of wars. But somehow, speaking to them in this very quiet, joyful moment was what made him nervous. Standing up to speak about his wife, expressing what she meant to him, especially in a way that didn't overstep any boundaries, had him anxiously spinning his wedding ring around his finger.

"So while I have you all here," he started to declare, attempting to clear his throat of its gruffness, "I just wanna take a minute to say somethin'. About the wonder that is my wife." He looked over at her with a smile, hoping she was still okay with him doing this, especially after this little surprise from Magna. Her bashful grin told him to go ahead. "When I think back to the silent warrior that showed up at my doorstep toting baby formula, with this sword on her back… it's almost unfathomable that she's the same person. That I'm the same person, for that matter. Because it was at a time when I could barely see straight. Things were so dire, living this life where you don't even know how long it's gonna be, but you know it's probably got a bad ending. And then out of nowhere, this… this vision appears. She was like a mirage. I didn't quite know what I was looking at when she walked up to that prison fence… but I knew I _saw_ her." Rick couldn't stop smiling as he recalled their life-altering first meeting, and neither could anyone else.

"Few hours later," he went on, "she still didn't say much, but I remember her very earnestly telling me that I needed her." He noticed her timidly cover her face, and he knew she was likely on the verge of tears. "I certainly didn't know the true weight of that statement at the time, or how accurate it would turn out to be, but as usual, Michonne was right. I've needed her every day since then, and god knows I will every day after this." He chuckled, realizing he would stand there and recount their entire history together if they let him. "It's been… a profound privilege to witness her evolution. I've learned so much in watching her strength, her grace, her astounding composure as she's been tested time after time after time. Mostly by me." The other guests laughed, but the two of them knew the true meaning of his purposely vague admission.

"I'm inspired every day that I get to watch her wake up and do it all over again. To see her love so ceaselessly, and lead so confidently. She is every bit the warrior I met seven years ago, but in that time, she also became my best friend. My partner in crime, in charge, and in life." A tear snuck down his cheek unexpectedly, and he shook his head as if that would somehow get rid of it. But thinking of everything they'd been through in the past year, let alone, the past seven, was overwhelming. "And I think, most of all, the fact that my children get the honor of having her as a mother, it's probably the best thing I ever did for them. It's... it's an honor to do this with you, Michonne," he said directly to her, his voice breaking in its honesty. "As much as I do understand why you chose me, I will never stop thanking you, or the universe, or god, if he or she exists, that you did." He raised his glass to his wife and waited for everyone else to do the same. "You're a lioness. Here's to you, my love and my light. And to our next adventure."

A round of applause and 'Cheers' followed, punctuated with a few sniffles from the tears Rick's toast had elicited. Michonne was at the top of the list, her hormones leaving her something of a blubbery mess as she stood to meet her husband. Enid helped her past Judith's collection wrapping paper scraps, and from there, she took Rick's hand, thanking him with a not-so-quick kiss in front of the group. She shook her head at the hoops and hollers as they parted, and she turned to face her friends. Her family. Wiping the remnants of her tears on her dress, she grinned gleefully at them all. "That was much too kind," she declared, licking her lips as she glanced back at her husband. "Thank you, Rick. Especially for the reminder that I was half out of my mind and stunk to the high heavens the day we met," she chuckled along with everyone else. "But more than that, you did remind me to be proud of how far I've come, as a woman, a wife, a mother." She paused for a moment, attempting to rein in her emotions once more, as she rewound to a time before she knew any of these people.

"In the old world, I never even wanted to be somebody's wife," she confessed. "It sounded so… final." She laughed again at how silly a stance it was to take, but back then, she'd been afforded the luxury of taking certain things for granted. "I had people that I loved more than anything, but… in losing them, I think I was a lot quicker to recognize when I'd _found_ something. In you," she nodded to Rick. She pointed to Carl, her head tilting as she noticed her buddy sitting across from her, beaming at her. "You, especially," she smiled at him. She flicked away another tear when she gazed at her little jellybean, completely oblivious to all the grown-up words being uttered; much more interested in the gifts for her new sibling.

Michonne let out a small, unsteady exhale before going on, grappling with what exactly to reveal within this monologue. "I know most of you don't know this, but around this time last year, Rick and I went through the very harrowing experience of a miscarriage. And… in all honesty, it turned our marriage on its head, to the point where I didn't know if we'd make it. I didn't know if I was strong enough; I didn't wanna have to be strong enough to push through yet another thing. But Rick is right. I am strong. I've had to be all my life, from growing up a dark-skinned Black girl in this country, to surviving the actual end of the world. Everything I've lived has led me to this place, and I don't say this arrogantly but truthfully. I'm strong as hell," she grinned. Laughter and applause accompanied her, and her gaze found Maggie's, smiling back at her gleefully. They were _all_ so impossibly fierce, it was almost sad. But it was true. "And I'm so glad I never gave up. I've been to hell a few times, and made it back every time, which is why it makes me so proud to stand here before you, eight months pregnant and feeling lighter than ever.

I _never_ imagined this was the life waiting for me at the end of the world. That there was a whole new one on the other side of all that pain." Her tears were falling in endless streams, but she didn't care, continuing to speak her truth in a way she never really had out loud before. Through those tears, she smiled back at Rick, the man responsible for a large part of that life. He'd given her a home, and along with it came his friendship, his family, his love. She was so thankful for all of it. "So I guess what I'm trying to say, as terribly cliché as it sounds… life gave me lemons, but with the help of you all – Rick, Carl, and Judith, especially, I made the most exquisite lemonade." Wiping her cheeks, she, too, raised her half-full glass, her head swimming with the thought that sooner than later, she was going to have a new little person to love; someone that was equal parts Michonne and Rick Grimes. Finally.

After the first miscarriage, Michonne wasn't sure that happiness like this was attainable again. Even in forgiving Rick for what he'd done, forgiving herself for what she didn't do, she just wasn't sure things would ever be the same again. Could she ever look at him and feel the same things she did six years ago? Three years ago? The answer was no. And that was okay. She'd seen too much; done even more. She'd spun gold out of an excruciatingly hard life and conjured beauty from the things left behind. She shouldn't have felt the same, because she was different. And so was he. They were better.

* * *

_So we're gonna heal, we're gonna start again_  
_You've brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers_  
_You're the magician_  
_Pull me back together again, the way you cut me in half_  
_Make the woman in doubt disappear_  
_Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot_  
_The audience applauds  
_ _But we can't hear them_

-END-

 


End file.
